


Us In Red

by DonTheRock



Category: High School Musical: The Musical: The Series (TV)
Genre: Explicit Language, F/F, Falling In Love, Family, Injury, LGBTQ Themes, Lesbian Character, Love, Love Triangles, No Smut, Queer Themes, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:02:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 25,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22298257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DonTheRock/pseuds/DonTheRock
Summary: Although Nini has spent much of her free time at her best friend, Kourtney's, house, she never interacted much with Kourtney's younger sister, Gina, who mostly kept to herself. However, when Kourtney's presented with an unfortunate fate, Nini and Gina find themselves bonding over their struggles. Conflicted feelings cause Nini to question where she is now, in love with her cute, sweet boyfriend, Ricky Bowen, and force her to confront a strange reality that she finds hard to believe: maybe she wants to be somewhere else.
Relationships: Gina Porter/Nini Salazar-Roberts, Gini – Relationship, Kourtney & Nini Salazar-Roberts, Ricky Bowen/E.J. Caswell, Ricky Bowen/Nini Salazar-Roberts
Comments: 32
Kudos: 102





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written fully in Nini's POV.
> 
> Some differences from the show:  
> \- Gina is Kourtney's half-sister. Gina is not a transfer student.  
> \- Although Gina was in the production of High School Musical, she never spoke much to Ricky or Nini throughout all of it.  
> \- Gina and Kourtney both only live with their mom.  
> \- Probably more, but I can't think of them right now.

I've always hated the smell of hospitals. They reek of a scent so prominent yet so hard to describe. After all, when I asked my moms what a hospital smells like when trying to describe it for a third-grade writing assignment, their minds drew blank, coming up with only one comparison: a hospital. Over time, I've pondered the appropriate words, and have come up with only a few non-concrete, painfully metaphorical phrases. Agony doused in so much medicine that it's numb. Chemicals washed over blood, diluting it but not actually cleaning anything up. The violent sting of tears eating the skin of every cracked heart sitting at bedside. It's a scent so strong it burns my nose, yet I can't get away from it, because there's a comfort in every breath, a promise that I will be free of the smell soon and never have to return. 

The space is heavy. In this room of others, terror seeps from every body, coating the floor with a slick oil that I avoid by hugging my knees to my chest. I'm not the only one wishing to wake up. Her mother sits in the chair to the left of mine, eyes closed, gripping a rosary like a child to their mother's hand. Her sister would appear calm, aimlessly on her phone, trying to extract any source of interest to keep her mind off the reality, if not for her nails which are nearly bitten to nubs. I've been watching her chip at them subconsciously for the whole century we've been sitting here waiting for news, waiting for someone to say that the surgery was a success, and that we can put our prayers away for another far-off day of desperation. 

Momma C is at work, but Momma D is here. She has her arm around me, rubbing my shoulder, and I let my choppy breaths drain out into her warmth, curling away from the ice around us. 

Eventually, our waiting comes to an end as we see the doctor step into our frozen space. We all look up, eyes glazed with hope. But what he says is not what he's supposed to say, not what would release the weight from my lungs and let me breathe freely again. 

"I'm sorry," sounds his somber voice. "Kourtney's gone into a coma."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just the prologue, so the rest of the chapters will not be this short, but I have to say I really love this prologue. I went into full poet mode in it, and I kind of love it. I will update with the first chapter soon. I love you all! Good night!


	2. Chapter 2

It might as well be my other home, Kourtney's house. Well, it practically is, I guess; I sleepover here at least once a week, and her mom knows all the foods I refuse to eat and the ones that give me allergic reactions, so she always prepares dinner with those in mind when I'm there. And when I'm not at Kourtney's house, she's at mine, inviting my moms to join our game of Smash Bros or offering her help with cleaning up the dishes after dinner. The two of us must've been sisters in another life—at least that's what we've concluded. She always has my back, no matter what half-baked decision's gotten me into each situation, and I always have hers.

Kourtney spins around, holding a bright orange turtleneck sweater up in front of her. 

"What about this one?"

I lie on my stomach on her bed while she presents multiple different outfits to me, asking for my opinion. 

"It's cute," I respond, "but you still haven't said what this is for?"

A smile spread on her face, and she twirls her way over to drop down next to me. 

"I have a date."

I gasp in excitement. "Kourtney! With who?"

"Rico," she answers. 

"As in the guy who played Ryan?" 

"That's the one," she confirms. "It's funny, 'cause I never really thought of him that way, but then yesterday he sat next to me in math class, and we ended up working on a problem together, and I learned a lot about him that I didn't know before. Like, did you know he's drumline in the marching band?"

"Really? Carlos is in that, too, right?"

"Captain of the colourguard," Kourtney affirms. "Couldn't forget that if I tried. He invites me to every one of their shows. Strangely enough, I didn't notice Rico there."

"Well, I like the orange sweater, and I think Rico will love it too."

"Yeah?" She lifts up the sweater again before getting up to hang it on her closet doorknob. "Thanks, girl. You're the best."

"Oh, it's no problem," I say. "You've done my makeup for me before dates with Ricky more times than I can count. It's only fair that I return the favour, although, I wouldn't recommend getting me to do your makeup." I laugh. 

Suddenly, her bedroom door swings open, and her sister pokes her head in, not being phased at all by my presence. She's used to seeing me around, but even though I'm always here, I feel like I hardly ever see her. Well, I see her, but I never talk to her. It's always single line phrases from her, typically aimed at her sister. The most I ever get is a nod of acknowledgement or a general question of how I'm doing. Even during last semester's production of High School Musical, when she played Taylor, her and I never really spoke aside from running our lines. 

"Kourtney, can you clean your hair out of the bathroom sink before it ends up clogging again? Thanks."

She pulls the door shut almost as quick as she opened it, and Kourtney rolls her eyes. 

"Gina thinks my hair's getting in there when I brush it, but I'm pretty sure it's hers," Kourtney explains to me. 

"How can you tell the difference?" I ask. 

"'Cause I don't shed," she replies. 

I follow her comment up with, "But you are the one obsessed with her beauty routine. Wouldn't you spend more time in the bathroom than her?"

"When she tells me that there's eyeshadow staining the sink, I'll take full responsibility."

Interrupting our laughter is a gentle knock on the door, and Kourtney's mom is there this time. 

"Hey, I was wondering if Nini is planning to stay for dinner," she says. 

"Thanks, Sherry," I respond, "but Momma C is making my favorite pasta tonight."

"Oh, well, I don't want to get in the way of that," Sherry says with a smile. Then she looks to her daughter. "Kourtney, honey, do you want me to drive you tonight? The roads are pretty slippery."

"I'm fine, Mom," Kourtney answers, "but thanks."

"You sure?"

Kourtney nods, and Sherry accepts it. Kourtney's mom has always been kind of overprotective of her daughter. Kourtney gets annoyed because she thinks Sherry treats her like a kid, but treating her like a kid also includes bringing home treats for us to try whenever she's considering carrying new foods at her cafe, so I'm fine with it. Sometimes she gives me extra to take home with me, and I bring it over to Ricky's house for us to share while cuddling and watching a movie. 

"Okay, well, be safe," Sherry says before carefully closing the door again. 

"Is it really that slippery out?" I say when she's gone. 

"The sun was out during the day, and now it's below freezing," Kourtney responds, "so there's a bit of ice, but I've driven on ice before."

"Rico didn't offer to pick you up?" I ask. 

"No, he doesn't drive," Kourtney answers. "He put off getting his learner's for too long. I wouldn't be able to handle not being able to drive. I don't know how I ever stood bussing everywhere."

"Hey, not having a licence isn't that bad," I say.

"That's because you have a boyfriend as your taxi driver," Kourtney responds with a chuckle. 

"Hey, he doesn't always drive me," I refute.

"True. Sometimes I drive you."

"Okay, fair," I say. "But Ricky never has a problem with it."

"That's because he's so head-over-heels in love with you."

She's not wrong. Ever since we got back together, Ricky's made it evidently clear how much he loves me through several means. The first is, of course, playing the song he wrote for me, which left me humming it non-stop for days after. Second was the goodnight texts, which now have those three beautiful words incorporated into them. Most recently, he was telling me about the new car he wants to get, and he made a promise to me that he'll take me somewhere special once he saves up the money to buy it. Of course, he'll have to get a job first before he can start making progress, so that goal is some distance away, but it's his intention that matters. He cares about me, and he wants me to know it. He doesn't need to do as much as he's doing, but he wants to, and that's why he has my heart. 

"Okay, maybe," I say with a grin. 

Kourtney chuckles as she stands up and goes over to her dresser to search her jewelry box. After looking through it a moment, she turns back around with a look of annoyance. 

"Did Gina take my necklace again?"

Clearly the question is rhetorical, because she storms out of the room before I can say anything. Left alone, I look around the room at the familiar surroundings, and I see the open jewelry box. Dangling out of it is a red gemstone pendant, and I go over to get a better look. The chain actually holds two charms, one being the gemstone, and another being a silver heart with an inscription engraved on it. _Happy birthday to my favorite sister – Love, Gina_. I let out a little laugh. She's her only sister. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't figured out yet, this is gonna be a VERY slow burn. This chapter also takes place before the prologue. The next will take place after the prologue. I thought this chapter was cute just for introduction purposes. Anyway, I'm really tired, so have a good night, and I love you all!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I highly recommend playing the song mentioned in the story when it is mentioned. This will enhance your experience.

I've only ever had one loved one die before. My Uncle was a big guy with a scruffy beard and an impressive ability to hush all his nieces and nephews by performing basic magic tricks that I now can look back on and figure out exactly how he did them. I was only four when he was diagnosed with colon cancer. I never really understood what was going on. I just knew that the hospital became a weekly playground where I'd go after school on Thursdays to play hide and seek with my cousins. To me, death was just a word that meant no more hospital trips, no more magic tricks, and no more seeing Uncle Cory except in photos. It was asking Momma D why Momma C was crying all the time lately. It was wondering why I couldn't wear my favorite purple dress to a party, and being forced to go change into a plain, black one. It was nothing more than a topic that seemed to make everyone go silent in an instant. 

I know Kourtney's not dead. She's just not really here. Sometimes, I wake up in the chair next to her hospital bed after falling asleep and I think for a moment that she's only sleeping. If I wanted to kid myself, I could probably believe that, too. I wonder if she knows what's happened to her or if she just thinks she's asleep. She looks far too peaceful to be feeling the fear I'm feeling. Maybe she likes it better there, wherever she is. Maybe she just doesn't want to wake up. Or maybe it's more like she's trapped in a pitch black box, banging on the walls to get out, but she can't get out. Maybe she's stuck. 

"I've heard that people in comas can hear what's happening around them."

The voice makes me jump in my seat, and I whip my head over to see Momma D entering in and taking the seat next to me. She puts her hand on my knee and rubs circles with her thumb, doing her best to soothe me the way she did when I was five years old and lost my favorite Barbie on the playground. I let my head fall onto her shoulder, and she wraps an arm around me, giving me a sense of protection, even though I know she can't hug away the worry that's eating me alive.

"Where are Sherry and Gina?" Momma D asks. 

"They went down to the cafeteria to get some food," I reply. 

"Why didn't you go with them?"

"Because what if Kourtney wakes up?" 

"Well, then she'll be waiting right here when you get back." Momma D's hand strokes my hair gently as she holds me. "It's okay to take care of yourself too. That doesn't make you a bad friend."

Although I know she's right, the thought of leaving Kourtney just doesn't sit right with me. What if she wakes up and doesn't know anybody? Won't that be scary? Wouldn't it be better if she has me to explain what happened?

Movement at the door brings my eyes over to where Sherry's holding two grilled cheese sandwiches. Gina isn't with her, but that doesn't surprise me very much. She's been pretty distant this whole time, staying out of Kourtney's room most of the time, and keeping her eyes glued to her phone when she is here. It must be her way of coping. Some people fall head first into their sadness, like me, and others do everything they can to hold on to whatever stones or tree roots they can find poking out of the side of the cliff, fearing that if they let go, they'll never be able to climb back up. 

"Hi," Sherry says softly. "I thought you two could use some food in your stomachs."

She comes over and passes us each a sandwich, for which we thank her. My mom bites into the snack right away. I'm not really that hungry right now, but I know when the anxiety fades, I'll be starving, so I force myself to break off a small piece of the sandwich and put it in my mouth. It takes me a while to chew it and get it down, but I do it, feeling full after just the one bite. 

"Visiting hours are almost over, so Gina and I are going to be heading out soon," Sherry tells us. 

"It's about time you got to bed, too," Momma D agrees, looking at me. "You have school tomorrow."

"No," I say, feeling myself getting worked up. "I can't leave. She could wake up. Our house is too far. I won't be able to get here soon enough. Can I ask the doctors to let me stay?"

"Honey, I don't think they can do that," Momma D replies. 

"I have a solution," Sherry says. "You could stay tonight at our house, since it's closer, so that if there's any news, we can zip right over."

I look to my mom with puppy dog eyes. 

"As long as you get to school on time, I'll allow it," she tells me. 

"Yes, thank you!" 

Sherry smiles at me then says, "Okay, well, I'll just go find where Gina is, and then we can get going."

After Sherry leaves, Momma D pulls me up by my hands, and I follow her toward the door. Before stepping out, I look back at my friend once more, and for a minute, I swear she's smiling. Faintly, yes, but smiling. Ironic as it is, that makes me frown. Maybe she is happier wherever she is. Maybe she doesn't want to wake up. 

I let my mom's hand break me away from the room, and suddenly everything looks hazy, like I'm not really here but instead just someone watching this all unfold. 

_____________________________________

It's strange being at Kourtney's house without Kourtney. I keep waking up in the middle of the night and being confronted by the fact that she's not here, and I'm not in a sleeping bag on her bedroom floor. I'm in the basement guest room. It's a very nice room—bright walls, floral bedding, a big window showing off the backyard—but it's empty. There are no clothes in the closet. No polaroids of me and my friend on the walls. It's just a simple guest room. 

The most noise I hear is just the air blowing from the vents, attempting to heat a house that's never felt colder. The lack of distractions provides a tranquil enough atmosphere to let me fall asleep quickly, but my own inner turmoil won't let me stay asleep. 

Around three in the morning, I awaken for the fourth time, but I can't close my eyes again. The faint sound of a song beyond my door steals my focus, and I find myself getting up and stepping out into the main living area of the basement. In the space by the television and furniture, I see nothing, but as I walk toward the door across the room, the music gets louder. 

Carefully, I turn the doorknob and peer into the room. This space used to be a craft room when Kourtney and Gina were kids, but now it's been transformed into a dance studio for Gina to practice in. Mirrors cover the walls, making the room look larger than it actually is. The floor is scuffed and dented from years of use, proving just how much Gina treasures the space. 

"Nightingale" by Demi Lovato is the song she dances to now, squeezing every ounce of her soul into each movement as she wisps around the floor like a fairy on a cloud. Anger echoes from every hit and pop as she releases all the emotions she's been repressing. Her dancing reminds me of a lion: majestic and graceful, yet strong and raw, power pulsing like her dancing is a living entity with a heartbeat of its own. As she moves, her eyes catch mine in the reflection of one of the mirrors, but she doesn't stop. She finishes the song as though she's still alone.

When the music disappears, she's on the floor, gasping for air. I don't say anything, allowing her to have a quiet landing back into the world. After a few moments, she stands up and looks over to me. 

"Do you always watch people dance when they think they're alone, or is it just me?" she asks. 

"Oh, no, uh, sorry," I say, fumbling over my words. "I didn't—I wasn't—I couldn't sleep."

Gina laughs, relieving me of the worry that she might be mad at me for intruding. 

"Yeah, I feel that," she says. 

I take a step farther into the room, and Gina doesn't tell me to leave, so I take that as confirmation that she doesn't mind me being here. 

"Does dancing help you feel better?" I ask. 

"Sometimes," she replies. 

"What do you do when it doesn't work?" 

She shrugs. "Keep dancing."

Keeping dancing: a beautiful kind of insanity. Just keep going, and don't stop until you can't feel your legs, until you're out of breath, hoping that if the dancing doesn't heal the wounds, maybe you'll become so tired that you won't feel them anymore. 

"What do you do?" she asks. 

"Cry," I confess. 

She smiles then lets it fall as quickly as it comes. "I don't do that."

I nod lightly, taking that in. My immediate reaction is that it can't be healthy for her to bottle up her tears like that, but maybe she doesn't. Maybe dancing is her crying, and every twirl is a tear manifested in a different form. 

A moment later, she asks, "Does it work?"

"Yeah. Sometimes," I answer. "It also helps to have someone to talk to."

"And what if the person you always talk to is the only person you can't talk to?" 

Gina and Kourtney aren't alike. Kourtney's extroverted and able to become friends with anyone she meets. Gina is much different. She doesn't open up easily. From what Kourtney's told me, I know that Gina has a few friends she hangs out with, but none she'd willingly share her inner thoughts with. Those are reserved for her sister, and only when she needs advice. If Gina can deal with it on her own, she will. 

"Then you find someone else," I say. 

She keeps her eyes on me, letting us take a few breaths of silence, before she speaks. "You should get back to sleep. You're already gonna be worn out tomorrow from stress. Don't need to add lack of sleep on top of that."

She takes a step around me and heads for the door, picking up her phone from the floor on her way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me forever, and now I'm super behind on my school assignment, so wish me luck. I promise I'll update We Are KAAFF next. I just really wanted to get this story to a point where the it was a bit more interesting.


	4. Chapter 4

A typical school day begins with Kourtney finding me at my locker and gushing about the gossip of yesterday. Of course, her version of gossip consists of which beautubers are trending at the moment and which makeup brands have gone cruelty-free. It does not consist of any type of normal teen girl gossip, which, although she doesn't turn down when presented with, she doesn't like to participate in the spreading of. She's rarely at a loss for words, because she's always learning new information she wants to share with me. She's my daily specialized news source come directly to me in person.

I approach my locker and look to my left, seeing the space beside me bare. Today is _not_ a typical day. 

"Hey."

Ricky's voice pulls me out of my thoughts. The smile on his face creates a dissonance that makes me feel like a ghost in the crowd. It feels like I'm in another dimension, one where everything is nowhere near as okay as everyone is acting like it is. 

"You okay?" Ricky asks when I don't respond. 

"Uh, yeah." As soon as I meet his eyes, I feel my chest tighten, and my composure breaks. "No, no it's not."

Worry floods into his eyes at the sight of tears fighting their way out of me, and he puts his hands on my shoulders. 

"What's wrong?" he says, his voice going gentle, letting his soft side shine through. "Talk to me."

He doesn't know. That explains it. Nobody knows. How could they? I didn't tell anyone, and I guess Gina must not have told anyone. Nobody here has any idea what happened last night, and even if they knew, I doubt it would cut them the way it did when Sherry called my house and told me that I should get to the hospital as soon as I can. Nobody else is as connected to Kourtney as I am, except maybe her sister. 

"Kourtney was in a car accident last night," I say, trying to hold myself together, but I have to dab my watering eyes with my sleeve. "She spun out when taking a corner and hit a tree."

"Shit," Ricky responds. "Is she okay?"

"She's in a coma," I croak. 

He recognizes my fragility and embraces me in a hug. I bury my face in his shirt, breathing in the scent of his Throb cologne, letting it curl my senses in a cloud of familiarity, comforting me in my brittle state. As nice as it is, it doesn't take away the shakiness of my breath or the weakness of my limbs. But he absorbs my hurt and prevents me from crumbling, and I guess that's all I can ask for. He can't possibly take away the pain, but he's a cast on a broken arm, holding me together so that I don't fall apart.

After a minute or two, I step out of his hug, wiping my eyes dry. I need to hold myself together. I can break down later at the hospital, but not at school.

"Okay," I breathe. "Just needed to get that out. I'm good now."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," I affirm. "I've just got to make it through the day."

"Okay, well, you might want to talk to Rico," Ricky says. 

"Rico? Why?"

"He kinda thinks Kourtney stood him up."

That's right. She was supposed to meet him for a date, but she never made it there. Part of me is mad that Rico has the nerve to assume the worst of my best friend and be upset when she slipped into a coma during surgery. But if I were in his position, I would probably think the same. 

I catch sight of the boy talking to his friend, Kaden, near the end of the hallway. I close my locker and start in his direction.

"Rico," I say.

He turns to me, and Kaden gives the boy a quick goodbye before heading off, leaving Rico to talk to me. 

"Hey, Nini," he says. 

We don't talk often, so this is probably strange for him, but that hardly crosses my mind. I'm just focused on setting him straight.

"Kourtney didn't stand you up."

He takes in a breath, obviously not believing me, and says, "Look, I don't care what her reason was. I waited for forty—"

"She's in a coma."

That shuts him up, and his mouth drops open. His eyes wander a bit as he processes what I said.

"Fuck," he mutters. "I feel like an asshole. I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"It's fine," I say, annoyance still tainting my voice a little even though I'm trying to sound understanding. "You couldn't have known."

We're interrupted by Ashlyn as she approaches with a smile, saying, "Miss Jenn just announced what the spring musical will be. . . . Wait, sorry. Am I interrupting?"

Clearly, my and Rico's faces give away our current emotional state, and Ashlyn's never been one to miss noticing when someone's feeling down. If she were a superhero, her power would be empathy, because she can read everyone, no matter how deep they try to hide their problems.

"No, yeah, um . . ." I try to think of how to say it in a less blunt way this time, but I can't think of one. "Kourtney's in a coma."

Her whole expression drops as she responds, "Oh, Nini, I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, well . . ." I don't finish my sentence. I don't know how to. What do I say? _It's okay?_ It's not, so that's not an option. _She'll get better soon?_ She doesn't have a cold; she's unconscious, and she will be indefinitely. 

I try to bring the conversation onto a lighter topic, feeling too heavy from all this talk about Kourtney, by asking, "What's the musical?"

"Oh, um—" Ashlyn takes a moment to recall it "—Lemonade Mouth."

I swallow hard. Of all the musicals in the world, it's that one. 

"Kourtney loved that movie," I say. 

"Maybe she'll wake up," Ashlyn responds hopefully.

"Yeah," I say, sounding completely unconvinced. "Maybe."

___________________________________________

Kourtney's in the exact same position today as she was yesterday. She doesn't look alive anymore. She looks like a hollow body with a chest rising and falling from nothing but the breeze. I know that's not real, but after sitting at her bedside for long enough, my mind starts to wander into dark places. 

If she were to never wake up, would she simply grow old and die without ever seeing the real world again? Would she know that her life was almost entirely a dream? Would we hold some kind of memorial for her? Not for the death of her body, but for the passage of her soul into another realm. Would that be appropriate given the circumstances? If we didn't do that, would I be praying for her return forever, holding onto a hope so small like a thread in a storm? 

Eventually, I can't take this wormhole I've fallen into, and I stand up out of my chair. Sherry looks up at me from her seat. 

"Where did Gina go?" I ask. 

"She's somewhere around," Sherry replies. "I can't say where specifically."

I exhale, giving her a nod as I do so, and then I exit the room into the hall. I wander the building, not certain where I should be going, but I know who I want to find. I don't know how Gina does it, stays away. But she's the one who's stood strong in one piece, while I've been shattering every time gravel hits, so maybe I need to try whatever she's doing. After a while, being tired gets tiring, and I right now, I've reached that point. I'm so sick of being drained. I need to find a way to recharge. 

It takes a good twenty minutes of aimless walking before I pass by a window on the ground floor, through which, a figure catches my attention. I find the nearest set of doors and push through them into an outdoor courtyard. The trees are bare, and the grass is lined with a thin layer of frost. Sitting on a bench is Gina, staring at nothing in particular while she listens to whatever is playing through her headphones. As I sit down next to her on the bench, she notices me and removes her headphones, letting them hang around her neck. 

"Good song?" I ask. 

"It's okay," she replies. "My friend told me to listen to it, but I'm not really that into black metal music."

I manage to let myself laugh a little before saying, "What kind of music do you usually listen to?"

"A bunch of stuff," she answers. "Just not black metal. What about you?"

"Uh, pop, I guess."

"Do you have a favorite song?"

I think about that for a second, but I come up with several different answers, none of them standing out more than the others. "I don't know," I say. "Like, my favorite song right now?"

"I mean your favorite song of all time. What's the song that you can listen to on repeat during a three-hour car ride and not get sick of it?"

The specificity of the question surprises me. She's thought about this before. She's formulated those words before and put thought into the topic. I guess I just wasn't expecting that, since she's never really spoken to me—or maybe I never spoke to her. I don't know. She's just . . . interesting. 

"I don't know," I reply. "I think I would get tired of any song after too long. Do you have a favorite song?"

She grins. "'1950' by King Princess."

"I've never heard of them," I say. 

"You should listen to the song. I think you'd like it."

"I'll do that," I promise. 

Now that I've been outside for a bit, I'm realizing that my pink long-sleeved shirt isn't enough to keep me warm. I tug my sleeves down to cover my hands and cross my arms over my chest, trying to preserve my warmth. Gina watches me as I shiver, and after a second, she takes off her own hot pink moto jacket and holds it out.

"Here," she says. "I'm not cold anyway."

The gesture feels foreign to me. No one's ever offered me their jacket before—well, no one except Ricky. Every moment I spend with Gina is a moment she proves herself to embody a new characteristic. This adds chivalry to the list. 

"Are you sure?" I ask.

"Yeah," she insists. "You need it more than me."

I humbly accept the offer and slide my arms into the sleeves of her coat, cutting off the path of the cold air that's trying to get to me. It fits slightly loose on my body, but I think I like it better this way than if it fit perfectly. This feels cozier, comfier, and I silently wish that I didn't have to give it back later. 

"Did you hear about the next musical?" I ask Gina.

"Lemonade Mouth, right?" she responds. "I'm looking forward to that. Kourtney and I used to watch that show all the time when we were kids." Gina's smile fades as she looks down at her hands. "She's probably told you that."

"Yeah," I say. "She has."

I'd forgotten about Kourtney's state, but now I remember it again, and I curse my brain for being so insistent. Why can't it just leave me be and stop pulling me down into gloom. I liked talking to Gina about something so perfectly meaningless as music, a topic that didn't weigh me down for once. 

What I say next is a surprise to me, because it completely contrasts my current failing hope, but it somehow picks up my spirits, even though I know I only say it to say something positive.

"Kourtney will love doing the makeup for our characters."

Gina looks to me with brows slightly furrowed, confused by my change in mindset, but a light smile forms on her face as she accepts my notion without question.

"What character do you want to be?" she asks. 

"I don't know," I respond. "Maybe Mo or Olivia."

"Go for Mo," Gina says. 

"Why not Olivia?"

"Mo has more of a character arc. She's also played by my queen, Naomi Scott."

"Those are pretty good reasons," I reply with a giggle. "Who are you auditioning for?"

"Stella," she answers without needing any time to think.

"Ah, yes. Played by Lesbian Jesus, Hayley Kiyoko."

She laughs along with me and nods, her face turning red. 

"The one and only," Gina agrees. "I love her."

"I know of her, but I don't listen to her music," I say. 

Gina smiles then says, "If you want someone to practice going over lines with at all before the auditions, I wouldn't mind helping."

I hesitate for a moment, considering if the offer is beneficial. Ricky mentioned today that he wants to practice acting with me, so I don't need a partner for that. However, I think there's a better offer beneath the surface of Gina's words. It's an offer of a friend who understands what I'm going through. As much as Ricky tried to sympathize with me today, Kourtney's fate just doesn't have the same effect on him as it does on me. But Gina is here at the same hospital as I am, trying just as hard to keep her mind away from the dark thoughts that want to consume her. 

"Does Friday work?" I ask her. 

She's happy with my answer, and I can't help but smile at her smiling at me. 

"Sounds great," she confirms. "I can't wait to hear you belt out that song that Mo sings in the pizza place. It's definitely the best song in the movie."

"You're forgetting about 'Determinate,'" I respond. "That song's a bop."

She starts to laugh but is halted by her mom stepping out into the courtyard. 

"There you are," Sherry says. "I have to finish creating a training package tonight, and I know you probably have homework to do, so I thought we should get going about now."

"Okay," Gina replies.

She stands up and goes over to her mom who looks to me and asks, "Do you want me to drive you home?"

"Thanks, but I'm good," I answer. "My moms are on their way."

The two bid me farewell and going inside, leaving me outside under the fading sky on my own. Soon, I remember that I'm still wearing Gina's jacket, but by now it's too late to go after her, so I keep the jacket on, wearing it during the drive home, and only taking it off when I change into my pyjamas after dinner. 

I carefully lay the clothing piece over the top of my standing mirror and go over to my bed where I've set up my schoolwork. I begin my attempt at studying biology, but that requires me to read about bacteria, and my brain goes on a very quick trip from bacteria to diseases to hospitals, all the way to Kourtney. I try to keep reading and ignore the rise of stress I feel, but I can't focus anymore, so I shut my textbook and lean back on my pillow as I begin scrolling through Spotify, trying to find something to listen to that will get my mind back to a place of peace. 

Then I recall the song Gina told me about earlier. I find "1950" easily; it's the first song listed when I search for King Princess. I press play and let the tune ring out through my bedroom. It fills the space with tranquility which falls over me like dust as the beat carries on. Gina was right. I like this song. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hola. Please don't hesitate to comment. I really look forward to reading the comments, and it's disappointing when I see none. Anyway, I hope you all liked this chapter. Sorry it was long as heck, but I felt like it would've lost something if I'd cut it shorter. I love you all still. I'll see you all again soon!


	5. Chapter 5

Kourtney's neighbourhood is the kind of place you'd see in a travel magazine. Old trees sprout from front lawns and spread out, branches covering the sky, creating a canopy over the street. Sunshine streaks through the spaces between the leaves, looking like golden glitter on the asphalt. At the end of the cul-de-sac is my friend's house, a dark burgundy spot among the its dull counterparts. 

It feels strange stepping up the onto the porch to go see someone other than my best friend, but it doesn't feel wrong. I'd forgotten to return Gina's jacket during the week, so I brought it with me now. Actually, I wore it here. I was just going to carry it, but I like the way it feels. It calms my constantly-on-edge nerves, maybe because it belongs to someone so close to Kourtney, or maybe because it's just comfortable—I'm not sure which. 

I ring the doorbell, and a part of me is caught off guard by Gina answering the door instead of Kourtney, even though I know Kourtney's not here. But that feeling goes away almost immediately when Gina smiles. I didn't see her at all at school, so I'm only seeing her for the first time now, and I feel a little disoriented for a moment looking at her now. It's like I'd forgotten that she looks like this. She wears a jean mini skirt and an indigo long sleeved-top that hugs her figure. The silver glitter in her eyeshadow is subtle, but I notice it. I don't think I ever realized before just how pretty she is. 

"Hey," she says. 

"Hi," I say, my eyes still stuck on hers. 

"Come on in."

She steps aside, and I remove my shoes. The door closes, and she turns back around to face me. 

"Oh, uh—" I start to take off the jacket "—I brought your jacket. Sorry, I didn't give it back sooner."

"Keep it," she says, stopping me as I'm about to pull my arms out of the sleeves. "It looks better on you anyway."

Smiling, I slide the jacket back on and bring my hands up to lift my hair out from under the collar. 

"So, do you have a copy of the script, or do you need one?" Gina asks, walking with me farther into her house. "I have an extra."

"I'm good," I reply. "I've got one." I tap the coat pocket where I have my lines folded up inside. 

"Awesome. You can head down to the basement if you want, and I'll just grab my script and meet you down there."

We split in different directions, but even as I descend the stairs, I find myself looking back over at the girl going upstairs, and I almost trip. The rest of the way, I focus on making it down safely, and a minute later, Gina comes down to join me on the couch. She plops down cross-legged at the other end of the sofa from me, her body turned in my direction. 

"Do you want to start?" Gina asks. "I'll read the lines for the dad."

"Yeah, sure," I reply. 

We both flip open our scripts to the part for those auditioning for Mo to read. It's the scene where she comes out of the police station and talks to her parents. Gina flicks her eyes up to me in a way that asks if I'm ready. I almost am, but I feel too far, so I scoot forward a little to make the space between us less prominent. 

Then I start my lines. "'Okay, look, I know you're disappointed in me, and I just—'"

"'I don't want to talk about it,'" Gina reads. "'Let's go.'"

"'No, Baba, please. I need to say this.'" There's a pause, and Gina looks up from her script to me with a smile. Although it's soft as cotton, something about it makes me feel weird, so I force my eyes downward again at my own papers. "'Look, I'm never gonna be this perfect, Indian daughter you want me to be. I'm never gonna be just a regular American teenager. I guess I don't know what I am exactly. Maybe a little bit of both? But what I'm trying to saying is . . . I'm finding my way. And yeah, I'll—I'll make mistakes, but . . . I deserve for you to just let me be me.'" 

I try to focus on my next line, but her smile distracts me, and I end up looking at her.

"What is it?" I ask. "Do I have something on my face?"

"No, nothing," Gina replies. "You're just . . . really talented."

I feel my cheeks heat up at the compliment. Somehow, after less than a week, her opinion has gained its own shelf of meaning in my mind. I think I'd be disappointed if she didn't think I was good. With most people, I don't care, but I do with her. I guess I just respect her opinions a lot. 

I look back to my script and continue, "'Could you at least try, Baba?'"

Gina does a light clap as she says, "Very good. I think I've found the future Mo."

"Thank you," I respond. "I definitely need to work on it."

"Well, of course. This is your first time reading it. You'll get better. Like riding a bike."

I let out a laugh. "If this goes like riding a bike, I'll know my lines in, oh, 11 years."

"That long?" she responds. 

"I tipped over on my first try without training wheels when I was six, and I begged my moms to let me keep them on longer," I explain. "Eventually, they made me take them off, but I fought hard to keep them on."

"That's the complete opposite of me." Gina giggles. "I never had training wheels."

"Never?" 

She shakes her head. "I thought training wheels were for babies, so I went right for two-wheels when I was five." She smiles, her eyes falling downward. "Kourtney was always mad at me, because she thought I was going to get hurt." She releases another laugh, but this one is more forced. "The irony is kinda funny."

Funny, but she's not laughing anymore. Teardrops glisten in her eyes, and I feel mine mirroring hers. Funny, because we both know what we're each thinking about. Funny, because I don't know anyone else who's been as crushed as me except this girl sitting across from me. Intending only to comfort her, I reach for her hand, but at the touch, I feel a part of me connect with her, and suddenly I don't want to let go. But after a moment, she does. She smiles and pulls her hand away to wipe her eyes. Funny—or maybe not funny—but rather strange, because I wish she hadn't. 

"Sorry," she mutters. "I don't usually cry."

"I know," I say, "but you know you can."

She lets out a breath and shakes her head. "Well, only around you. To everyone else, I'm . . ." She searches for the word. ". . . put together."

A gentle smile finds its way onto my face. "Well, your secret is safe with me."

She returns my smile, remaining quiet. With anyone else, this silence might feel awkward, but here it just feels safe. 

"I have a proposal," I say, pulling the energy back to the space. "We make a list. A list of things that make us feel better, so that whenever we feel sad, there will always be an outlet."

"I like that," Gina replies. "So we already have two things: dance and cry."

"And I have number three," I say. "Running lines."

I hold up my script, and Gina smiles. She picks her own up and opens it again so that we can return to what we came here for. 

As she's about to start reciting the lines for Stella, I hear my phone beep and see that I've received a text from Ricky. 

"Sorry," I say. "Give me one second."

 **Freaky Callback Boy:** You busy? Big Red told me about this restaurant that just opened up where you eat with baby kittens around. 

**Me:** I'm actually at a friend's house right now, but If you're willing to pick me up, I can later.

 **Freaky Callback Boy:** No problem. Who's house?

 **Me:** Kourtney's.

 **Freaky Callback Boy:** Is Kourtney better?

 **Me:** No. Not yet. 

**Me:** I'm with her sister. Gina.

 **Freaky Callback Boy:** Gina?

 **Freaky Callback Boy:** I didn't realize you two were friends. 

**Me:** We weren't, but we sort of are now. 

**Freaky Callback Boy:** Cool. I'll be there at 7:00. Love you.

 **Me:** Love you too.

I tuck my phone back in my pocket and look up to Gina. 

"That was Ricky," I say. 

"Oh, yeah," she responds. "Your boyfriend, right?"

"Yeah," I answer. 

She smiles. "You two are really cute together."

I don't know why, but I feel like I'm still waiting. I guess I just wanted her to say more, although I'm not sure what. 

"Thanks," I respond. 

__________________________________________

If my house is my first home and Kourtney's house is my second, then Ricky's car certainly takes third. Everything about it feels like home. From the new car scented air freshener to the polaroid picture of us after the last musical opening night, which he has tucked beneath the strap on the sun visor of my side, it feels as much mine as it is his. The fact that I know every inch of this little bubble of space is comforting. It reminds me that not everything has to change. Some things should just stay the same, because there's no reason to try to change something that's already good.

"If you do buy that new car," I start as he turns out of Gina's neighbourhood, "don't get rid of this one."

"Well, I might," Ricky replies. "I might need the money."

"But I like this car."

"You might like the other car even better," he suggests. 

I don't see how that's possible. No fancy add-ons nor pretty seats could ever beat nostalgia. Nostalgia is what keeps people connected to the things they love and who they once were. Its a calming purple light in a world so fast that its colours all blend together. 

"I'll miss this one," I say.

"Maybe you won't once you get in the new car and feel the heated seats."

I look at Ricky, who's grinning while his eyes are on the road, and I smile. He's really cute when he's determined. 

"So," he says, turning to a different topic, "When did you and Gina start hanging out?"

His voice springs with curiosity and pep, sounding a lot like the way my moms pried for knowledge when I made friends in elementary school. I'm not expecting the question. I'd just left Gina's house, and he hadn't said anything about it yet. I guess I haven't really gotten close with any new people in a while, so this is a little odd. 

"Uh, I guess when I stayed at her house the night Kourtney . . . you know."

"I'm glad you have someone to talk to," he responds. 

I think back to the plan Gina and I made earlier, and I consider telling Ricky about it, but I then I think I'd rather keep it to myself. It's kind of nice having an inside thing that I don't have to share with anybody else. It's just something for Gina and I to help us feel okay, and I don't have to include Ricky in this like I do with everything else all the time.

"Me too," I utter.

When we reach a stop light, he glances to me and asks, "Hey, is that a new jacket?"

I'd forgotten that it's Gina's. It feels like mine.

"Uh, yeah," I answer.

Ricky smiles, giving it a once-over. "It's nice."

"Thanks," I respond. 

I tug the sleeves of Gina's jacket up over my hands and bring my feet up onto my seat, resting my head in a position that allows me to watch my boyfriend as he drives. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. Sorry all these chapters are long as heck, but I really like them. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and I'll see you with the next one. The lines from the script are the lines from Lemonade Mouth. It's an awesome movie, so definitely go watch it. Thank you for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

I like the spotlight. For a long time, I didn't. That was back when I believed it was there to single me out, to highlight any small mistake I made. It took me a while to understand that it's not there to do that. It's there to support me. It's there to help me do what I love by making my talent visible to the rest of the world. Every once in a while, I wonder who made the first spotlight, and if they were desperate for attention, or if they just wanted a way to wash out the world to let the actor be the only moving gear in place, the most important piece of the moment. Maybe they did it for the same reason Ricky shone his phone light on me during my first audition, and I shone mine on him during opening night. It was to let him know that he wasn't just someone in the background and that he was made to be important, made to be seen. I wanted him to know that I believed in him.

The bright bulbs that frame the mirrors backstage are much more blinding that a spotlight. I practice my lines again while trying not to look directly at the lights. The last thing I want is to have spots in my vision that cause me to trip while doing the dances. 

I'm not the only person back here. The space is crowded with tense nerves and people trying to memorize their parts. Carlos is giving Seb a pep talk, Ashlyn is practicing her vocals, and Steph is going through her dances. 

"Wow."

I spin around and see Ricky gawking at me in my dress. It's a blue, denim one with a frilled hem. I know I turned down EJ's suggestion when he told me I should dress like Gabriella for my winter musical audition, but I feel different this time. I found this dress at the thrift store down the street, and I knew that if Kourtney were there, she would've told me to buy the dress and have no regrets. I can tell Ricky would've agreed.

"You look stunning," he says as he steps up to me. 

I smile. "Thank you. I wanted to dress the part."

"I can already picture you as Mo," he says. 

He comes up and takes my waist, drawing me into a kiss. I keep it short. I'm not big on PDA, and there are a lot of other people in this room with us. 

"I spent all last night practicing the song," I say. 

"It sounded great when you sang it to me," Ricky responds, "so I'm sure you'll do great."

"I hope so," I agree. 

Ricky gives me a soft smile. "I know so."

One of the best things about Ricky and I is how beautifully uncomplicated we are. Sure, we had a rocky past, but I like where we are now. Everything he does is gentle and well-intentioned, and it's nice to know that I don't have to think about it. We just work, and it's simple as that. He's become a regular part of my life. Sometimes I wonder what I'd be if he weren't around. He keeps me stable, acts as a constant in my life, and I value that. I don't know if I'd know where I'm going if he weren't there to walk with me. 

As I look past my boyfriend, I notice my other friend looking jittery as she paces back and forth, repeating her lines out loud. Her curly hair sprouts from a ponytail on the back of her head, brushing her bare shoulders which her purple tank top doesn't cover. 

"Hey, I'm gonna go make sure Gina's okay," I tell Ricky.

He nods and heads off elsewhere, and I make my way across the room to where Gina is. As I approach, she stops repeating her lines and looks to me. 

"Hey," I say. "You nervous?"

"Me? No." Her compressed voice gives her away. 

I raise my eyebrows, and her strong front gives out. 

"It just feels weird," she mutters. "Kourtney and I always audition together. She was the one who convinced me to try out for a lead for the first time. It's strange not having her here."

I take in a breath. "I know what you mean."

She bats her eyes a few times, trying not to let out the tears. After a moment, she puts a smile on her face. 

"Anyway, you look cute," she compliments. 

I let her change the subject, knowing it's her way of coping. "Thanks."

"You look just like Mo," she goes on, "except even more beautiful."

I feel myself blush, and a thought pops into my head. 

"You know, when I was little," I start, "I used to build blanket forts as a way to block out my problems. I don't think anyone ever gets too old to build a fort."

Gina breathes a little chuckle and bites her lip. 

"Is that number four?" she asks. 

"Well, it always made me feel better."

She glances to the side before returning her eyes to me. "Sounds like something that'd be better with two people."

"It just so happens one of my Moms has a collection of blankets from her time travelling after college." 

"What a great way to celebrate you getting the part of Mo," Gina says. 

I brush a piece of fallen hair behind my ear. "I haven't gotten it yet. I night not get it."

She shakes her head, chin confidently up, and responds, "You will."

______________________________________

The auditions were as uneventful as usual. Carlos sat beside Miss Jenn the whole time, making comments about every individual who got up on stage. I couldn't tell what he said about me, but Gina told me afterward that he must've said I was incredible. I would've argued that she held that title. She sang perfectly. She held me and the entire crowd captivated with every lyric. I felt intimidated going on after her, but she gave me a smile that charged my confidence instantaneously. Plus, Ricky was there cheering me on. 

Now, he holds my hands while he tries to convince me that I got the part I'm hoping for. Today's the day Miss Jenn is announcing the cast, and I haven't stopped bothering Ricky about how impatient I am. I want to know what part I got so I can stop worrying about it. 

"You did amazing," Ricky says. "You have nothing to worry about."

"Right. You're right," I say, trying to take deep breaths. "Right?"

Miss Jenn turns to the anxious crowd after pinning the paper to the bulletin board.

"You may now look at the list," she says with a grin as she steps out of the way. 

People buzz toward it like paper clips to a magnet. I let Ricky go so that I can flood in with the rest of the students. I spot Gina coming toward me with a smile and stop to listen to what she's so clearly dying to say. 

"I got Stella!" she squeals. 

"Gina, that's fantastic!"

She grins. "You'll be happy to see what you got."

She puts a hand on my back, pushing me forward toward the list. I search for my name and follow the dots to the other end of the page. 

Grinning from ear to ear, I whip around. 

"I got Mo!"

I run back to Gina and throw my arms over her neck, and she rounds me in a hug. Our excitement feels more amplified now than when we were apart, and I hold on to her until my arms get tired. 

When I eventually let go, I hear Ricky's voice grab my attention.

"I got Charlie," he says. His eyes flicker between me and Gina, finishing back on me. 

I step away from my friend and go over to give my boyfriend a hug too. I probably should've gone to him first. I don't know why I didn't. Something just pulled me to Gina. 

"I'm so proud of you," I tell Ricky.

I truly am happy for him, but I have to layer a little extra icing onto my tone of voice in order to hide my internal train of thought. Ricky doesn't seem to notice though, and he pulls me into another hug. Over his shoulder, I watch as Gina goes off to share her excitement with Carlos and Seb. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I would've written more about the actual auditions, but honestly I felt like that would just be wasting time, because it really wasn't important. I've got lots of ideas for the rest though. I have six chapters planned out already. I'm super excited to write them. I love you all. Good night!


	7. Chapter 7

I think the strangest thing about stars is how strange we make them out to be. As kids, they're just diamonds sparkling in the sky, and we really have no understanding of why or how they exist, or even what they do. There's magic in the ignorance, and we assign them supernatural qualities, because it's easier to decide there's nothing that can be understood than to try to understand the complex science behind them. 

Now, being older, I know what they are. They're giant balls of hot gas, not magical at all. The mystery was the magical part. That principle applies to many things in life. We see photos of other countries, and we perceive those places as though they're far off kingdoms of wonder. Celebrities are often viewed as being something other than people, because we don't understand them to be like us. They're more like fictional characters that seem too perfect to truly exist. 

Every once in a while, I meet someone and wonder if they truly exist or if I've just been imagining their qualities. I wonder if maybe they're the same as me, but then I remember that they're not, and I can't explain their existence with my current knowledge. Every once in a while, I meet someone, and I have to learn them from the bottom. And sometimes, that's too much effort, so I don't even bother. Other times, she says something so unexpected that it stimulates my curiosity, and I feel my hands slip from the conclusion I've drawn, and suddenly I'm floating through space again, looking for something solid to grab on to. 

"Have you ever thought that maybe there might be another universe passing through ours, but we can't see it?"

I tilt my head toward Gina, but she's staring up at the roof of blankets that we've supported using a structurally questionable set-up of chairs and stools. Earlier, we were playing Uno. Usually, that game is better with more people, but personally, I found it perfectly comfortable with just the two of us. After a while of playing and talking and laughing, we ended up here, lying on the floor, deep in a conversation I can't fully comprehend. But she can, and somehow that's enough for me.

"How would that work?" I probe. 

"There could be an entire universe right where we are, but its particles are so small and so spread out that we can't see them," she goes on. 

"Like, I could be standing on someone's hat right now, and I have no idea."

She laughs. "Exactly."

"I suppose it's possible. I've never really thought about it."

"Yeah," she mutters. "I tend to think of a lot of things other people don't think about."

Gina's an interesting person. She doesn't cry. She keeps her feelings contained and doesn't tell anyone about them. Now I'm finding out that her head is much louder than her voice, filled with ideas she doesn't speak. If I were to guess, I'd say she's probably constantly teetering on the edge of imploding. And she's sharing some of her thoughts with me. And it surprises me—because everything she says are things I'd deny if it were coming from anyone else, but from her, I believe it all. 

"What about your other friends?" I ask. "Do they think like you?"

"Not really," she replies. "I have lots of friends, but none of them are that close. I float between groups most of the time, and I get along with them all, but none of them really get me. You know?"

I nod. She's still looking up, fixated on something above her. I trace her line of sight up to the spot, but I don't see anything other than the plaid, fleece blanket. Whatever she's seeing, it must be amazing. I wish I could see it too. 

"I don't get you," I say, "but I really like listening to you."

Gina looks over at me and smiles. In her eyes, I can see the reflection of the lamp on the other side of me. It gleams like starlight.

Suddenly, Momma C's voice sounds from outside our hideaway. "Girls, what would you like for dinner?"

I sit up and crawl out of the fort, and Gina does the same. After brushing the wrinkles out of my pale pink dress, I go over to the kitchen where Momma C is getting out bowls and cookware. 

"Gina, I assume you're staying for dinner," Momma C says. 

"Oh, I don't want to be in the way"

"Sweetie, we've got more than enough food, and with the amount of times your mom has fed Nini, we don't mind returning the favour."

Gina accepts that with a smile. Then she steps around the island and asks, "Do you want any help?"

"You don't have to worry about that."

"It's no worry," Gina replies. "I cook a lot at home."

"You cook?" I say, surprised. "You never told me that."

She looks at me without an answer and then turns to my mom. "Have you ever made enchiladas?" she asks.

"I have not, but that sounds delicious," Momma C replies. "Tell me the ingredients, and I'll see if we have them."

Gina starts listing off the necessary items, and Momma C scours the pantry for each of them. As I'm about to step in and help, I hear the back door to the garage open, and I go over to greet Momma D as she takes off her coat. 

"Hi, Nini. How was your day?"

"Good," I reply. 

She places her bag and keys on the counter and listens to the noise coming from the kitchen. Gina and Momma C are now talking about the first step of the recipe. I can't hear exactly what they're saying, but I hear giggling every once in a while. 

"Is that Gina?" Momma D asks. 

I nod. "She's showing Mom some recipe she knows. Apparently, she knows how to cook."

Momma D walks down the hall and into the kitchen to join the conversation, and I follow behind. 

"How can I help?" 

Momma C and Gina spin around and smile at my other mom. 

"If you could start mincing the garlic cloves, that'd be great," Gina says. 

Momma D nods and goes over to the sink to wash her hands first. While everyone else is at work, I make my way over to Gina. Her eyes float up to mine as I approach. 

"What do you want me to do?" I ask. 

She hesitates for a second, as if she losing track of what the question is, but eventually she replies, "Cut some green onions." 

I nod and go get a knife from the cutlery drawer, then find the spot of the counter where the green onions are laid out. While I chop the vegetables, Momma C wanders past me with a grin. 

"You picked a good friend," she says to me. "You should bring her over for dinner more often."

My eyes fall over to where the girl is busy searching the pantry for more ingredients. 

"Yeah," I say to my mom. "I will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another shorter chapter, but the next ones should be longer. I'm excited for chapter eight especially. Yes, this is a very slow burn. Just wait and trust me. Please. I love you all. Good night!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/-i6QfXbbV4s  
> That's the link to the song in this chapter: "Cinnamon" by Jome.

The food at Denny's is fairly average. It has good pancakes, but they're nothing amazing. That's not why I like Denny's. I like it, because it's always open. No matter what time of day, where you are, or what you just went through, there's always a Denny's within a 10 km radius that you can go to. I never used to go to it that often, but it's Gina's favorite restaurant.

Seeing as we just finished visiting Kourtney at the hospital, and we couldn't find any other decent place open, I let her coerce me into going there again. The first time we went there, it took a lot of convincing on her end, but now, I already know I'm going to give in. Still, I pretend to argue pretty much just because I like seeing the smile on her face when she wins. I think she knows, though, that I'd pretty much agree to anything she had her mind set on.

She sits across the booth from me, chowing down on a veggie burger, while I slowly pick away at my stack of cinnamon pancakes. There's only one other table occupied in the whole restaurant. At it, an old, white-haired couple shares a meal with soft little smiles on their faces. They hardly talk at all, but Gina and I have been making enough noise to make up for their silence. 

"Imagine being so uncultured that you didn't go to Denny's every week," Gina jokes.

"You mean like me before you made me come here?" I respond, laughing. 

She shrugs. "Well, aren't you lucky I did. This place gives you something important."

"Greasy hash browns?"

"Respectability."

My giggle spreads to her, and I respond, "What about those high-end places, the ones that cost more for a glass of water than I could make in a month?"

"Like rich people restaurants?" she says as she lifts a fry from her plate. "No. Eat the rich. Remember?"

She bites into the fry, failing at holding in her laughter. 

"One of these days, I'll take you somewhere else and prove that there are better places to eat," I say. 

"I don't know how you're going to prove a lie," she replies, grinning, "but I'll humour you. Where do you want to take me?"

"I heard of this one place downtown called The Coup," I explain. "I've never been to it, but Ashlyn says it's all vegetarian, gluten-free, and delicious."

"I'm intrigued," Gina says. "I'm free tomorrow."

I light up, about to confirm the plan, but then I remember what tomorrow is. 

"I'm not," I reply glumly. "Tomorrow's Valentine's Day. I already have plans with Ricky."

"Oh, yeah," she responds, shaking her head. "Obviously. Sorry, I forgot."

 _About Valentine's Day being tomorrow or about Ricky?_ I want to ask her, but I don't know how. 

Once we finish eating, the server comes around with our cheques, and we head up to the front desk to pay. When I finish tapping my debit card, I turn around and see Gina eyeing the claw machine. She flicks her eyes between me and the machine, grinning as I walk over to her. 

"You're seriously going to waste a dollar on something you're not gonna win?" I judge.

"No. I'm going to waste a dollar on something I'm absolutely gonna win."

She kneels down a shoves a dollar bill into the slot then stands up ready to play. The timer starts counting down, and she focuses in on what she wants: a yellow stuffed duck. She hovers the claw over the toy, but then she moves it over a little more. 

"I think you're too far to the right," I tell her. 

"I'm not."

Confused, I watch as she presses the button, and the claw drops down onto a camo ball cap with a picture of a deer on it and the phrase "Huntin' everyday." The claw grasps onto the hat and lifts it up.

"Oh my God," I utter. 

Gina giggles and bends down to retrieve her prize. With a grin, she brings it up and puts it on my head. 

"Gina, I say this with the utmost respect: what the fuck?" 

Chuckles burst from both of us.

When she's able to talk again, she says, "I gave you a gift, and that's how you thank me?"

"Thank you," I say, drawing the words out for emphasis. 

"You're welcome," she replies, smiling uncontrollably. "Now come on. I'll drive you home. I'd rather you not take the bus this late at night."

"Are you sure?" 

"Well, are you gonna drive yourself?" she counters. 

I smile, letting her know that I've accepted the offer. She holds the door open for me as we exit the diner, and we step out into the soft melody of music playing through speakers of a nearby pub. 

"Oh, I love this song," Gina says. 

I don't know the song, but I like it. The presence of bass colours the beat of the percussion, with a voice overtop that seems to stretch like cotton over the air. 

"You seem to always know every song you hear," I say.

She doesn't comment to that, and I start toward her car. Immediately, I feel her hand take mine and lift it up, making me spin around under the arch of our arms. Then she pulls me in to her, smiling as she sways to the tune. Giggling, I take her other hand, and the two of us tangle in various dance moves that I remember from grade 9 social dance but that I also know I'm not doing right. It doesn't matter though, because we get lost in laughter anyway, spinning and stepping around, completely butchering some variation of a waltz that we've changed to fit the 4/4 time signature of the song, looking certainly crazy like little kids in a schoolyard. 

When the song ends, she bends into a bow, and I respond with a curtsy, both of us still laughing.

"Ricky has one good dance partner," Gina compliments. 

"Yeah, he only really dances for the musical," I explain. "He doesn't dance randomly, like outside a Denny's in the middle of the night."

"What a shame," Gina responds. "You should convince him to dance with you more often. You deserve a partner when you want to throw social norms away and just be weird."

"I have you for that," I say. 

She smiles and, after a moment, turns to go toward her car, at which point, I follow. I still have the residue of my smile from dancing on my face as I pull open the door to her car and get comfortable in the passenger seat. 

As she starts the engine and backs out of her parking spot, my eyes wander over to the tiny clear crystal dangling from her rearview mirror. She told me before that it projects tiny rainbows like confetti across the car when it's sunny. It's still winter, so the sun hasn't been strong enough yet for me to see it for myself.

Then my stare drifts to her, and I watch her drive, kind of wishing there will be traffic on the way home, although this is Salt Lake City at night, so I don't think that's very likely. I just want to drag this drive out a little longer. At one point, I notice a car pass us by, and I glance over at the speedometer. She's driving five below the limit, as though she can sense my wish. 

_Is it weird that I'd rather spend Valentine's Day evening with her?_

_________________________________________

When we were in middle school, Kourtney and I used to have a girls' night every Valentine's Day. I'd show up at her house with chocolates and gourmet popcorn, and the two of us would hibernate in her basement, watching only the sappiest movies the romance genre has to offer. One year, in grade 6, Gina asked to watch with us, but Kourtney didn't want her little sister hanging around with her and her friend, so she convinced Gina that she should go watch movies with her own friends. After that, every year was just Kourtney and I, and Gina was off doing something else with someone else. We never cared to find out anything more, because Valentine's Day was our night for us to have girl talk and paint nails and braid hair.

We would talk about all the things we wished boys would do for us and whine about how guys in real life are nothing like in the movies. Ricky, comes close, though. He wrote a song for me. He joined a musical to try to prove he loved me. Only a movie character would put in the amount of effort that he did. 

Now, my Valentine's Day is a lot like what it was when I was younger, only it's with my boyfriend. Ricky brings the bowl of popcorn to the coffee table in his living room then joins me on the couch. He puts his arm around me, and I snuggle up close to his chest. I always liked being able to listen to his heart beating. Today, it reminds me a lot of the beat of the song Gina and I were dancing to last night. 

"So," Ricky says as he scrolls through Netflix, "what do you want to watch."

"I don't know," I reply. "What do you want to watch?"

"Well, I want to watch _Terminator_ , but I figured that was already off the table."

"Good thinking," I say with a laugh. 

I watch as Ricky flips through the recommended movies. Suddenly, I notice one in particular, and I get excited. 

"Hey, Gina loves _To All The Boys I've Loved Before_."

"Yeah? You wanna watch that one?" Ricky asks.

He looks down at me with his usual cute smile. Suddenly, his mouth opens like he's having an epiphany.

"Wait, now I know where I've seen the jacket," Ricky says. "Doesn't Gina have the same one? I haven't seen her wear it in a while, though."

"Oh, uh, yeah."

I threw on this jacket as I was on the way out of my house. I didn't even realize that I'd chosen this one. It just happens to be the one I keep on the hook nearest to the door. 

"Why don't you start the movie?" I say, trying to turn the focus away from the jacket. 

He's given me his jacket before, and I wore it a ton last year before we broke up, and I wore it a lot when we got back together, but ever since Gina gave me her jacket, hers has become my new go-to. Part of me feels guilty, although I don't know why. I'm allowed to accept gifts from friends. I've just never had a friend like her before. 

I slide my fingers through my boyfriend's, and I feel him kiss my head as the movie begins. This has always been enough for me, but for some reason, I can't get over the sense that something about it feels duller than before. I'm probably just used to having him around. I know what he's like. I like what he's like. He's everything I should ever want. He's perfect. I tell myself these things as we cuddle together, comfortable and safe as always. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote the last line, and I got chills. I really hope it gave some of you chills too, because I tried really hard with this. I love you all. Thank you for reading, and have a wonderful night!


	9. Chapter 9

Ashlyn "Born to Rage" Caswell is one of the purest souls I know, comparable only to the purity of Seb Matthew-Smith. Ashlyn's always the one to give compliments and ask for nothing in return. She's the friend who will pay for your Slurpee if she feels spontaneous that day. She's so deep that she could fill the earth's core with only her words, but she also has the ability to listen so intently that you feel you could tell her anything and she'd understand exactly how you feel. 

Parties are one of her specialties as well. If the cast is having a party, you can bet it will be at Ashlyn's house, and she takes just about any and every opportunity to have one. She's such a people person. I don't know a single person who doesn't like her, because she cares so much about everyone and does so much to help those around her. It's under that pressure that I feel I need to do something to return her kindness.

"Do you think she'll like them?" I ask Ricky as we walk from his car to Ashlyn's doorstep. 

"I'm sure she will," Ricky replies with a smile. "Everyone loves brownies."

"Yes, but they colour is disgusting," I say, looking down at my tupperware container of desserts.

"Yeah, maybe don't use green food colouring in dark brown food next time."

"I just wanted it to be Saint Patrick's Day themed," I say with pout. 

Ricky chuckles and rings the doorbell, and a second later, Ashlyn opens the door. She has on a bright green blazer for the occasion. It's better than me, who forgot to wear green, so I threw on a bracelet at the last second. Ricky found green socks at the bottom of his drawer. They were a gift from his aunt who went to Saskatchewan for some reason and bought socks for a team called the Roughriders at the airport before she left to come back to Salt Lake City. Ricky and I still haven't searched up what sport the team plays. 

"Ricky, Nini, come on in," Ashlyn greets. 

We slip off our shoes, and Ashlyn closes the door behind us. I can hear several voices already chatting in the living room, and Ricky and I are only ten minutes late. I guess that's what we get for stopping to get gas on the way. 

"I brought brownies," I say. 

"Oh, you didn't have to do that," Ashlyn says. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome. Where do you want me to put them?" 

"Uh, just in the kitchen would be fine. And you can leave your bag there too."

Ashlyn's finally trying again at having that girls' sleepover. Last time, Gina had a crises in the middle of it when her mom called saying that her dad was trying to get a hold of her. That's what Kourtney told me happened, at least. Neither of the sisters talk to their dads at all. That's because Kourtney's passed away before she was born, and Gina's never wanted a kid to begin with, but now Kourtney's said how he lives somewhere else and has a wife and kids, all information that the sisters found out through his Facebook page, and he barely even acknowledges Gina's existence unless he needs to for some reason. Gina doesn't talk about him, though, and I don't believe in asking her to. Parents are the ones who raise you, the ones who really create you as a person, not the ones who just gave you your genes. By my beliefs, her mother is her only true parent.

I nod and leave Ricky and Ashlyn to go put my dish away. As soon as I enter the kitchen, I see multiple trays of various foods. I guess I'm not the only one who brought a snack. Either that or Ashlyn is way over prepared for this. 

I notice a few other bags in the back by the window, so I sit mine down there, and as I spin back around, I see a beaming face enter the kitchen. Immediately, I rush over to hug her as I always do when we see each other. She takes me in tight, holding me long enough for my body to relax and settle with hers, like a tide soaking the sand. 

When I do let go, I tell her cheerfully, "I made brownies for the first time."

"No way," she says with exaggerated shock. "Nini Salazar-Roberts actually baked for herself for once?" 

Whenever I'm craving some kind of baked good, Gina's always the one I text, because I know that if I do, there will be a 50-50 chance that she'll bring that treat to school the next day. She's a far better baker than me, so sometimes I take advantage of her skills to get delicious snacks, but she's very aware of that, and she's said she doesn't mind. 

"Are you proud of me?" I reply with a giggle. 

"I am."

She walks down the island to examine my brownies closer. 

"They're a little burnt, but other than that, they look good."

"Yeah, I left them in the oven for a little too long," I say. "I was curling my hair and kind of forgot they were in there."

She chuckles a little, saying, "Well, next time you want to bake, tell me, and I'll bring over one of my recipes and help you."

"You realize if you bake for my moms, they're not going to let you ever leave again, right?" I warn her jokingly. 

She shrugs. "So I'd be stuck with you all the time? Doesn't sound too bad."

I smile and, without thinking about it, bite the edge of my bottom lip. Suddenly, I become aware again of the others in this house besides us. 

"Oh, uh, we should go see what the others are up to," I suggest. 

She nods and follows me out into the living room. Carlos, EJ, Steph, Addie, Rico, Lauryn, Natalie, Kaden, Kaison, and Big Red are all squished together on the furniture and the floor, laughing as they talk in separated clusters. I notice an Empty space at the end of the couch next to Lauryn and go over. 

"Mind if I sit here?" I ask.

"No, go ahead," she replies with her usual beaming smile. 

Across the group of people, I see Gina get caught up in a conversation with Steph. I watch her for a moment, wondering if she'll see me. When she does, she smiles and crosses her eyes, making me giggle. 

"Hey," I hear Ricky say, which pulls me away from my silent communication with Gina. 

He sits down on the arm rest beside me. 

"Oh, hey," I respond. 

All of a sudden, Carlos springs up onto his feet. I realize why when I see Seb enter the room carrying a board game I recognize. 

"Okay, everybody!" Carlos announces. "It's time for another game of High School Musical: The Choosical! West High Knights on the left. East High Wildcats on the right. Pick your teams!"

Gina's eyes instantly find mine, and I know what she's saying without her having to use any words. I let her stare lift me onto my feet and draw me over like a current in a river I don't particularly want to control. 

As I approach, she scoots over to make room for me on the sofa chair that's definitely only made for one person, but I accept it anyway. When I attempt to fit beside her, it's tight, and I stand up again.

"It's fine," I say. "I'll take the floor."

She rolls her eyes and grabs my hand, pulling me back down next to her. To solve the space issue, she lifts my knees to drape over hers. 

"Better?" she asks. 

"Much," I answer. 

"Okay!" Carlos says. "I'm about to flip the coin to see who picks the first challenge! Teams, pick heads or tails."

The East High Wildcats, my team, consists of me, Gina, Natalie, Kaison, Lauryn, Addie, Carlos, and Seb, while the West High Knights includes EJ, Steph, Rico, Kaden, Ashlyn, Big Red, and Ricky. Ricky sits next to Big Red, chatting with him and Ashlyn. I didn't notice that Ricky didn't choose my team until now. The Knights, who called heads, gets to play first. 

We go through many rounds of strange yet fun challenges—one particularly interesting one involving Lauryn having to play "Work This Out" on a bunch of pots and pans—until we eventually reach a point which Carlos deems the "intermission."

"There are tons of snacks in the kitchen," Ashlyn tells everyone. "Please eat them," she begs with a little laugh. "I don't have enough space in my fridge for them all."

Gina looks at me. "I guess that's my cue to try one of your brownies."

We both get up and go to the kitchen where she makes a beeline for my container and opens it up. She picks out one of the treats and takes a huge bite. I suppose it can't be that bad, because she swallows it. 

"Pretty good," she says, "although the colour's a little bizarre."

"Mistakes were made," I say. 

Lauryn's voice interrupts, asking, "Have you guys tried my cookies?"

The girl holds out a plate of sugar cookies topped in green sprinkles and shaped like clovers.

"I will now," Gina says, picking one up. 

I take one as well, asking, "Did you make them?"

"My sister did," she replies. "I can't bake to save my life."

We all laugh, and she carries the plate out into the living room to offer her cookies to the others. As she leaves, Ashlyn enters in, and she reaches for one of the tiny triangle sandwiches on her way over to us. She looks down at a tray of cupcakes too but has her hands already full with the sandwich and a glass of water.

"I still have to try one of your cupcakes," Ashlyn says to Gina. "They look really good."

"I didn't realize you made cupcakes," I say. "I'll have to try one."

"That is, if there are any left after I give them out to everyone else," Gina responds with a smirk. 

"You're not going to save me one?"

"Don't worry," Gina says. "I have tons of extra at home."

She grins as she leaves the room, and I only stop watching her when she turns the corner out of sight. 

"So," Ashlyn says, getting my attention again, "how are you and Ricky doing?"

The question catches me off guard. I don't mind answering it—Ashlyn and I are good friends of course—but it seems a bit random. 

"Uh, fine," I reply. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," she says. "You just haven't been talking to him much."

"What do you mean?" I say, surprised by her comment. "He drove me here."

"Well, yeah, but since you got here, you've been hanging around Gina a lot, and I just thought you might've been avoiding him."

I didn't realize I was spending that much time with Gina, but thinking back, I suppose I was. 

"Well, everything's fine with us," I state. 

A second later, a very frank Carlos barges into the kitchen and our conversation, asking, "Nini, are you and Ricky broken up?"

"What? No." 

"Oh," he says. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I insist. 

"Okay, cool. I'll go let Seb know. He was concerned but didn't have the guts to ask you directly."

Carlos grabs one of my brownies and chomps down on it as he power walks back out of the kitchen. When he's gone, Ashlyn turns to me with serious eyes. 

"You know I'm your friend, right?" she says. "And you can tell me things."

"Yeah, of course," I respond. 

"So if there were something going on with you and Ricky—or you and someone else—you could talk to me."

"Look, Ricky and I are good as ever, but the day we aren't, I will tell you, yes."

Ashlyn nods and takes a bite out of her sandwich. She believes me, which makes sense because I told her the truth. So why does it feel like I just lied? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm finally back with another chapter. I'm so excited, because the story is going to start picking up soon. I love you all! Have a lovely night!


	10. Chapter 10

Addie and Steph had to go home, so the sleepover is just me, Gina, Lauryn, and Ashlyn, but four is certainly better than none. It's enough to keep Ashlyn happy. After laying out our sleeping bags, the group sits in a square, cast in a purple glow from the lava lamp sitting on the bar counter in the basement. 

The last time I slept over anywhere was that night at Gina's, the day Kourtney went to the hospital. If she were awake right now, I know she'd be here. She'd be dying to all the stereotypical teenage girl sleepover things like giving makeovers and braiding hair. None of it would be a competition, but with her expertise she'd certainly win anyway. I know I should be used to her not being here by now, but it still feels a little colder without her here. 

Ashlyn and Gina laugh at Lauryn's story, but I'm only now tuning in, breaking away from my deep thought. Not wanting to stand out, I chuckle along with the group.

"It couldn't have been that bad," Ashlyn says. 

"It was," Lauryn insists. "Kaden can dance, but he cannot write songs. I had to stop him before he sang that song to his crush. I told him to make a dance instead."

"Trust me," Ashlyn says. "It could not have been as bad as the song EJ wrote to apologize to Nini last semester."

"Oh, yeah, he mentioned that he did that," I say. "He never sang it for me, though."

"That's probably for the best," Ashlyn responds with a chuckle. "'A Billion Sorrys' is quite a bop but not very heartfelt."

"I remember that song Ricky sang to you during the auditions for the winter musical," Lauryn tells me. "I know you wrote it, but that was really sweet. It was like something out of a movie."

"Yeah," I agree. "He's really thoughtful."

I can feel Gina's eyes on me, but I don't look over at her. Still, I really want to. And that's why I force myself to keep my eyes on the carpet. 

Since Carlos and Ashlyn pointed out to me that I was spending a lot of time with Gina, I made an effort to talk to Ricky the rest of the night. From the outside, it wasn't problematic at all. Gina hung out with Carlos and Seb, and I clung to Ricky's side. It was completely normal—so I don't understand why I kept glancing over to Gina the whole time, wondering what she was talking about. But I repressed whatever strange desire was turning my head, and I stayed with my boyfriend. 

Now the number of people who can split the space between us is significantly less. I stay a couple of feet apart from where she sits on the carpet, trying not to focus on her too much. 

"What about you, Gina?" Ashlyn asks.

The girl's eyes go wide, and her face goes red. "What about me?"

"Do you have anyone special?"

I see Gina let out a breath and her body relax a little as she says, "No, not really."

"Well, do you like anyone?" Lauryn wonders. 

Gina hesitates, sucking in her lips for a second before eventually replying, "Uh, no, nobody."

Suddenly, her eyes flick to me, and I feel my chest tighten even though nothing's happened. She quickly looks away again, but it takes me a bit longer to regain the ability to breathe. I don't know why I care so much about her answer to this, but for some reason it's hard for me to let this go. I know Gina. I can tell when she's holding something back, and I'm getting the feeling that that's what she's doing right now. But neither Lauryn nor Ashlyn seem to notice, so I don't say anything. Whatever Gina is keeping from us, she must have a reason for it. Not all secrets need to be told. People are allowed to keep things to themselves. I don't know why I'm having to work so hard to convince myself of that right now.

_________________________________________

My eyes flutter open, but I can't see anything more now than I could with my eyes closed. It's pitch black in this basement. It surprises me at first, but then I remember that this is Ashlyn's house, not my bedroom. 

A shuffle of the sleeping bag beside mine alerts my half asleep self that I'm also not alone. I don't think I would say anything if the sound was coming from a different direction, but it comes from where Gina is sleeping, and the rational part of my brain must still be asleep. 

"Gina?" 

At first, there's no response, but right as I'm about to accept my loss and let myself drift away again, she replies, "Nina?"

I can't help but giggle at that. She never uses my legal name. I didn't even know she knew it. I guess Kourtney must have told her it at some point. 

With her awake now, and everyone else asleep, I take the chance to talk to her, just the two of us. But I don't really know where to start, so I say the first thing that comes to mind.

"What do you think of Ricky?"

She holds for a moment before answering, "He's a nice guy, and I can tell he loves you a lot."

I don't feel satisfied with her answer. I don't know what exactly I want her to say. I just want her to say more. 

"Do you think I'm good with him?" I ask. 

"You're good with him and without him," Gina says. "You two are definitely cute, but you're also cute on your own too. Why are you asking me this?"

"I don't know," I admit. "Sometimes I just wonder what I'd be without him."

"Nini, you're amazing, and not because of your boyfriend. You'd be you even if you weren't with him. Ricky doesn't define who you are, and you don't need him to."

I let that float in the air above me for a little while. I think Kourtney said something like that to me once. Coming from her, it was a friendly shove to be confident, but coming from Gina, it strikes even deeper. Everything she says just hits deeper. 

"Gina," I say, breaking the silence, "earlier, when Lauryn asked you if you liked anyone, and you said no, what else were you going to say?"

"What do you mean?"

"You seemed like you had something else to say."

"Oh. No, I, uh—I didn't. I don't like anyone at the moment. That's all."

"Oh."

The air becomes heavy all of a sudden, and I feel the rise in resistance as I take it into my lungs. I could've sworn she was holding something back, but I guess I was wrong. Maybe I don't know her as well as I thought I did. 

"Who was the last person you dated?" I ask, following the trail of curiosity in my head. 

Gina laughs softly. "Um, I'm not really sure it counts as dating someone. Back in grade seven, a boy asked me out. We went on one date, and then I started ignoring him. I didn't talk to him again for an entire year."

"What?" I react. "Why?"

"Because I didn't know what to do."

"You were that nervous?"

"Yes, but not about liking him." Gina waits a second before explaining further. "I was nervous because the person I really liked was the girl he was lab partners with. She also happened to be my best friend."

I figured Gina liked girls, but she'd never confirmed it, and I'd never asked. I feel the edges of my lips lift into a small smile before I can question why. Once I do, the smile drops, and the heat of the room becomes far more noticeable. I didn't think it was this warm before, but now it's starting to get uncomfortable.

"Did you ever tell her how you felt?" I wonder. 

"I did, yeah, on the last day of grade eight. I never heard from her again after that."

I don't even know the girl she's talking about, but I'm mad at her. I imagine fourteen year-old Gina crying because the girl she liked turned her back on her. People can be awful; I know that. But the thought of people being awful to Gina cuts a little farther down. 

"You don't need her," I state. "You have better friends, like me."

My breath sticks to my throat as soon as those last words come out, as if my mouth is trying to yank the words back in, but they've already been spilt. 

It takes Gina a moment before she is able to respond, "Yeah, uh—yeah. Better friends."

Swallowing feels like trying to force a lump of chalk down my throat.

"Friends," I echo. 

I turn my head up to stare at where I know the ceiling must be. In the dark, everything feels more intense: the strange tension in my muscles, the weight of my heavy breaths, the magnetic force dragging my arm outward. Suddenly, my pinky touches Gina's. Her skin is cool, a quality which is nice considering the dramatic temperature of the space right now. I freeze, using all of my will power to not let my hand roll right into hers. I can't do that. We're only supposed to be friends, and friends don't hold hands. But friends also don't want to hold hands. 

Although I can't see her in the dark, I can feel her eyes on me. All of my bones, from my feet to my jaw, are stiff, fighting the current pulling me toward her. As soon as I locate the energy needed, I break my pinky finger away from hers, clenching my hand into a fist. I didn't know my heart was capable of pounding this aggressively, but then again, I've never tried to keep a twig standing vertically underneath the force of a tidal wave before. That is, until now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little Valentine's Day Gini for y'all. I hope you liked this chapter. I was stressed writing it, and my teeth were clenched the whole time. Writing emotions really gives you emotions. It's a lot sometimes. Anyway, I love you all. Have a good sleep. To all my singles comrades especially, you are loved, you are important, and you don't need a king. You got your crown. You are everything that you will ever need.


	11. Chapter 11

Theatre club isn't meeting today, so when I hear the sound of the song "Breakthrough" from Lemonade Mouth playing in the bomb shelter as I pass by, I peek through the half-open door curiously. From the sight of a fluffy ponytail and a sparkly black shirt, I instantly recognize who's in here. I take a step inside the room, and the girl stops dancing as soon as she sees my image in the single tiny mirror on the wall. When she twirls around to smile at me, I feel my pulse leap. 

It's been a few days since Ashlyn's party, and although I've texted Gina a fair amount, I haven't seen her much in person. In all honesty, I've been avoiding her. I've been trying to keep myself from doing exactly what I'm doing now—letting her pretty brown eyes entice me and wipe away the logical side of me, resulting in a complete disregard for my prior objective. 

"You still like to spy on me while I dance, eh?" she teases. "I guess some things never change."

"You used to ignore me, though," I point out. "You'd keep dancing and pretend I wasn't there."

She puts her hands on her hips and shrugs, her breathing still heavy from the dancing. 

"I used to not care," she says. 

"And now you do? I always thought the more someone gets to know someone else, the more comfortable they are around them, not the other way around."

"It's not that," Gina responds. "I care that you're here. I stop dancing because I don't want you to leave."

My brain feels broken as I try to process that. I keep trying to shove her response into the same box where I keep all my friends' words, but my head keeps pushing it back out, leaving me unsure what to do with the information. The only other space I have is the drawer filled solely with memories of Ricky. Gina doesn't belong in there, but my head drags her words over to the drawer and drops them in front, and I'm not strong enough to undo this choice of placement. Unfortunately, it's causing my body to think I'm supposed to respond to her the way I respond to Ricky, resulting in nerves that make my palms sweaty. 

In an attempt to change the focus, I ask, "Uh, what part are you practicing?"

"Miss Jenn asked me and Carlos to choreograph a dance break for Stella and Mo during 'Breakthrough,' and Carlos told me to come up with some ideas to show him before we up meet to make it."

"How hard is this dance going to be?" I wonder, worried she might've forgotten that I'm not near as good a dancer as her.

"It'll be easy. Don't worry," she replies. "You'll be following me most of the time anyway. I had one move in mind, and I'd actually like to get your opinion on it."

"Oh, yeah, sure."

I stand back, giving her space to perform, but she tilts her head, setting her eyes on me. 

"I need a partner to make it work," she says. 

I take a breath in and hold it while I nod. As I walk up to Gina, I try to keep my heart from exploding out of my ribs. A chill spirals through me as she takes both my hands. 

"It's kind of like an octopus-type thing," she says.

She steps apart, keeping only one arm linked to mine, then comes back in and holds my hand again. I follow her lead as we twirl through and under our connected arms. It ends with us face-to-face, our noses almost touching, and I can hear my internal panic and excitement levels both competing to be the loudest. 

"Something like that," she summarizes. 

Up this close, I can't break my eyes away from hers no matter how hard I try. She doesn't move, and I can't force myself to back up. I feel the same magnetic pull that I did that night at Ashlyn's sleepover. It tugs on my waist, yanking so hard until I finally take a step forward, and Gina doesn't retreat. Actually, when I feel myself start drifting inward, I notice her doing the same. When our lips are only a couple of inches apart, I'm convinced that I'm actually going to kiss her, and I won't be able to stop it.

I'm beyond thankful when I hear a voice say my name and snap me out of my trance. I push myself off Gina and turn to see Ricky standing in the doorway. At first, I'm completely mortified, but then I see the innocent smile on his face, and I realize he must not have fully seen what was almost about to happen. 

"Ricky, hi," I say, hurrying over to him and away from Gina. "Gina was just showing me a dance for the musical."

"I saw," Ricky responds. "Seemed pretty close. I assume it's for Mo and Scott."

"Uh, yeah," I lie. 

I glance back at Gina, who just seems overall confused about everything happening right now. She stares at me with a blank face, looking like she's just trying to understand what's going on.

"Hey, uh, let's go," I say to Ricky. 

"Yeah, sounds good," he replies. Then he looks past me and says, "I'll see you tomorrow, Gina."

"Uh," Gina's voice is flat, "yeah. See you tomorrow."

I don't look at her again, not wanting to make the mistake of getting sucked back into her eyes. Instead, I hook my arm through Ricky's and pull him forward, eager to get away from the scene. 

_______________________________________

My moms loved Ricky since the day they met him. When I first brought him to our house, they were instantly charmed by his good manners and kind smile. I'm pretty sure they gave me consent to marry him in the future after that first day; they liked him that much. I understand why. Ricky has that effect on people. He has teachers liking him, parents approving of him, and girls (and boys) falling for him. It's hard for anyone to not like Ricky Bowen. 

Gina is kind of the opposite. She's not charming or chivalrous. She's not naturally friendly, nor is she able to make friends with just a smile. Instead, getting to know her is like investing in stocks. You have the hope that it will pay off, but you don't really know if all your effort will be wasted or not. But once you're in, you're in, and as long as she's comfortable around you, she'll feed off that energy, allowing her to open up to the others in the space. But only as long as she's with you—with me. I didn't realize it before I took the time to really ponder over the fact, and I only did that because I couldn't get her out of my mind. Gina's become much more sociable since I first started hanging out with her. I don't know what's changed or why. I think a part of me hopes it's because of me, and that makes guilt churn in my stomach. 

Carlos and Ashlyn both thought I wasn't with Ricky anymore, but I was—I am. I love Ricky, I do. I think I do. I'm pretty sure I do. Or at least I did. The problem is that whatever I'm feeling for Gina lately feels a lot like what I felt for Ricky the first time he kissed me. I don't know. Maybe I never really liked Ricky that much to begin with? When I'm around Gina, it just feels like anything could happen, like I'm riding a wave of the world, excited to see what adventures it holds. When I'm with Ricky, I know what's going to happen. I always know. Knowing isn't a bad thing, but it's just not the same as before, back when I was a fifteen year-old girl twirling around in the butterflies he gave me. Now I know the butterflies. They're the same ones that have always been around. And they're tired. They don't really flutter the way they used to. But what does any of that even mean? 

As I descend the stairs, I see Momma D in the kitchen. She's chopping green onions, preparing supper. I've been thinking this over in my head for far too long. I really need someone else to talk to, and she's the most accessible person at the moment. 

"Hey, Momma D," I say. 

"Hello," she responds with a smile. "Have you come to help me cook?"

"Um . . ."

She cuts me off with a chuckle as she drops the green onions into a bowl. "Don't worry. I'm just messing with you."

I try to make myself laugh, but I'm too stressed to successfully do that. "Um, what are you making?"

"Just a recipe Gina gave me."

Gina gave it to her. She thinks highly of Gina. We're off to a good start. Maybe she'll know what I'm supposed to do when I tell her I may have more feelings for Gina that I should.

"Speaking of Gina," I say, "can I ask you something?"

"Yes, of course."

"Okay, um . . . so I've been spending a lot of time with her lately, and I haven't really been seeing Ricky as much as I should—"

"Oh, well, you can invite Ricky over for dinner sometime," Momma D suggests. "I've missed seeing him around. He's such a nice boy."

My sentence is shut down in an instant. She likes Ricky. How am I supposed to tell her that I might not anymore? 

"Uh, yeah. He is," I mutter. After pausing a second, I decide to backtrack. "Thanks. Yeah, uh, that's all I wanted to ask."

I step away, rushing toward the stairs to get away before I can start crying in front of my mom. 

"Nini," my mom calls out, "Are you okay?"

I put a smile on my face. "Yeah. I'm fine." She doesn't look convinced, so i insist again, "I am," before continuing back up to my bedroom where I let my tears loose into my pillow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guess what! We're getting close to excitement. I can't wait to finish this story for y'all, so stick around, because it's gonna be fun. I love you all! Have a good day!


	12. Chapter 12

When Ricky and I first got together, he used to bring me up to his room, and I'd sit on his bed while he sits on the stool by his desk and play a riff he just came up with. I always loved hearing his voice. It was soothing and sweet and made my heart beat three times faster. My favorite part was always the end of the song, because that's when he'd come over and kiss me, and I'd fall into the moment like a penny in quicksand. 

The contrast of back then and right now hacks at every inch of my being. I feel confused as to why his voice sounds like just another voice to me, and mad at myself for not knowing how to find that special feeling again. Most of all, I feel guilty for even feeling any of this in the first place. 

He finishes his song, which, in all honesty, I wasn't paying attention to. Still, I try to smile and pretend I love it. 

"That's so good," I say, my tone a bit too flowery to be believable. 

He sets his guitar down on its stand and looks to me with raised eyebrows. "Are you okay? You seem a little preoccupied."

Of course he can tell that I'm not acting normal. He can always tell when I'm unhappy. At this moment, I really wish he didn't have that ability. 

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine. Um . . ." I try to think of a real reason to give that isn't about Gina, and although what I say isn't the full truth, it is part of why I'm so glum. "Kourtney was moved to a long-term care facility today."

"Oh." Ricky falls silent, not sure what to say. 

"Gina and I went to see her yesterday," I explain. "She was so still. Honestly, it's been so long since I've seen her eyes open that it kind of feels like she's dead."

Ricky listens, but I can tell that he has no idea how to help me. All I really need is someone to understand me, to say they're as torn as I am, and that we're in this together. Ricky can't say that, because he doesn't understand. He's never been as close with Kourtney as I was. He's lost family before, but only grandparents, whom he never really talked to that often anyway. He could try to say that his mom leaving was similar to this, but it's not. He can still call her and hear her voice if he wants to. He can still talk to her and have her respond. I try to talk to Kourtney, but I question whether or not she's really even there anymore, if she can actually hear anything I'm saying. God, I'd give anything to hear her voice again, hear her singing and see her dancing around her room to try to cheer me up after a bad day. I just want her to be here again. The hardest part of all of this is that I know she's not dead. It might be easier if she were, because then I wouldn't be holding on, uncertain of when or if I'll get my friend back. I don't want to let go, because I don't want to lose her if she does wake. But clinging to this hope and never knowing if I'm going to float or drop is more soul-crushing than I ever thought it something could be. 

"I'm sorry," Ricky utters. 

That's all he has to say, and I can't blame him. How would he ever know what to say right now? The funny part is he used to. He used to always know exactly what to say, exactly how to make me feel better. But he doesn't anymore. 

Being with him has fallen into this grey haze. The feelings I used to have for him have burnt away, becoming only smoke where there used to be fire. I've been clinging onto the memory of it all in the hope that what we had before would relight, and it would feel right again, but that hasn't happened, and I don't think that will ever happen. We're just not the way we were before. We're grey, stuck in this place of feeling safe and certain, where nothing ever changes. Nothing ever sparks. 

Gina is different. Being with her is burning red firelight, fierce and intense. Every second with her is something new, something better than before. The wind changes so rapidly around her, and I'm constantly running to catch up, afraid to let the feeling get away. 

That's the difference. What I have with Ricky is something I wouldn't miss it it disappeared suddenly. What I have with Gina is something that I pray every day to be able to have forever. The problem is how do I tell Ricky that? 

I look to him, my boyfriend. He does his best to show empathy in his eyes. I can't tell him now. I'll tell him soon, but I'm not prepared for that right now. I'm not quite ready to destroy his heart yet.

_______________________________________

 **Gina💕:** Number 7?

 **Me:** What do you have in mind?

 **Gina💕:** Can I maybe just see you? I think I could just use a friend right now.

Number seven. She's referring to our list, of course, the list of things we can do to feel better. It's been a while since we did number six, so I'm a little surprised at her request. I probably shouldn't even agree to go over to her house. I just decided earlier that I would wait to break up with Ricky, and that means I should probably wait before I let myself get deeper into this thing with Gina than I already am, but after Ricky drives me home, and I see Gina's texts, I don't have the power to tell her no. I manage to convince Momma C to drive me over to Gina's, and I go up to her door while whispering to myself that I'm not going to go too far. I'm going to be her friend right now, and that's it. 

When her mother opens the door, she directs me upstairs, and I follow the trail of sad music seeping out from the girl's bedroom. The song playing is "I Can't Fall in Love Without You" by Zara Larsson. I remember listening to it the day Ricky asked to take a break last summer. I was devastated. It's funny how this song has such a different meaning to me now than it did back then.

I peek through the open door and see Gina lying on her bed, drowned in the glow of the tiny lamp on her nightstand. When I knock on the doorframe, she lifts her head up to look at me. 

"Hey," I say. 

She drops her head back down again, staring up at the shadows on the ceiling as she responds, "Hey."

I make my way over to the bed and climb up to lie down beside her. I rest my hands on my stomach and gaze upward where she looks to. You could probably say it's in my head, but I can actually see what she sees this time. I can see the heaviness in the air, the way the world is reaching out to choke her in its grasp. I can see all of that. 

"What's going on?" I ask gently. 

She holds up a necklace that looks like it was made by a child. It's a tied piece of yarn with chunky, coloured beads strung on it. 

"What is it?" I wonder. 

Gina brings the necklace back down to her and replies, "I made it for Kourtney when I was six." She takes a breath, letting me know that a story is about to come. "I realized I still had one of her necklaces in my drawer, so I went to go put it back, but when I was doing that, I found this in her jewelry box. I thought she would've thrown it out a long time ago."

Gina's breathing is deep, but she isn't crying. She doesn't like crying. That's one thing about her that I've come to know very well. 

"Yeah, Kourtney always did hang on to the things that had sentimental value, even when other people didn't understand why," I say. 

"She was a much better sister than me. That's for sure."

"You were a very good sister," I counter. "You are. She loves you a lot."

"How do you know?"

"Because the told me. Even after you two had just fought, she still told me how much she appreciated having a sister like you. And honestly, what's not to love about you?"

Gina tilts her head to me, and a smile graces her face. It sparks chills in my chest that radiate through my body, pushing my pulse forward. Suddenly, I feel my eyes lock onto hers, and my breathing quickens, and I try—trust me, I try—to look away, but it's just so hard. I don't know why I ever thought I'd be able to compete with the force she has on me. 

The girl then turns her eyes up to the ceiling again, but I still can't get myself to look away from her. 

"Kourtney and I didn't agree on a lot of things, but I think that sometimes made us better," Gina tells me. "Sometimes, she would ask me what I wanted in life, but I didn't like that question. I thought it put too much emphasis on the future and not enough on the now. So I always asked what she wanted most at that moment. Usually, the answer was food or money."

"Is that what you still want?" I ask. "Food and money."

"I don't know," she says. "It's a hard question to answer without thought unless what you want is such a strong desire that you can't go one second without thinking about it."

"Yeah, I guess it is."

"What about you?" She asks. "What's the one thing you want most right now?"

The words push so hard to get out, and I can't stop them as I answer, "I want you to kiss me."

She looks back to me, but unlike I expected, she doesn't look distraught or repulsed. Instead, she grins. 

"That's a pretty brave thing to say," Gina responds. 

My lungs stutter with every pound of my heartbeat as I take in a breath. "Yeah."

At first, I don't think she's going to do anything. She just stares at me, motionless, as if analyzing the situation. Then she moves in, and I feel her lips against mine, and I can't help but succumb to the overpowering force any longer.

We're still us, but we're us in red. Red light firelight. Red like the way her kiss permeates me from the inside out, bending my everything toward her, telling me I need more, that this isn't enough. As she adjusts to be on top of me, one of her hands graces my waist, tracing the curve of my body and leaving a tingle for my skin to remember her route. It's warm. Her flame radiates through me, and I welcome it in. Her fire is more than just a resident in me. It has claimed me as its own, and it doesn't hesitate to break open every door and start painting the walls—painting them red—blazing red. 

For a split second between kisses, a thought crosses my mind: I still have to tell Ricky. The concern vanishes immediately when Gina's lips fall back to mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. I hope someone here is on the edge of tears, because I am. Writing that was a lot, like a lot to handle. It's heavy as heck. There are so many emotions, and I really hope I'm doing them justice. I love you all so much. Thank you for reading! Three more chapters left. Who's ready? Comment your theories of what you think is going to happen.


	13. Chapter 13

When there are two people you talk to about things, and suddenly something happens that they're both involved in, who do you go to? I land on the doorstep of the first answer to that question I can think of, and Ashlyn opens the door with a look of surprise. 

"Nini, hi. Um, come in."

I step past her and remove my shoes. After closing the door, she turns to me and asks, "I don't mean to sound rude, but it's nine AM on a Saturday. What are you doing here?"

"Uh, I needed to talk to someone," I reply. 

"Oh, well, I'm honoured that you chose me. Here, come sit down."

She leads me into the living room where we both plop down into chairs facing each other. She has the softest, most caring eyes. I can already sense that this was a good idea to come here. 

"Okay, so remember when you and Carlos asked if Ricky and I were having issues?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I kind of kissed someone else yesterday, and now I don't know what to do."

Her eyes go wide and her jaw drops a little, but she does her best to keep it under control. 

"Oh," she says. "Okay, well, was this a one-time thing?"

I shake my head, looking shamefully down at my hands. "I think I like her more than I've like anyone since Ricky and I broke up in the summer."

"Her?" she repeats. "Gina?"

My breath catches in my throat, and it takes a minute to force it out to say, "Yeah. I didn't mean to like her like this, but I do, and I didn't mean to kiss her yesterday either, but it was like I couldn't stop it." I let out a breath. "I don't want to hurt Ricky."

"Okay, Nini, I actually went through something like this before. A long time before Big Red and I got together, I actually dated this girl—"

"Girl?" I say in surprise before I can think to stop myself. 

"Yeah, I'm bi," she brushes it off. "Anyway, this girl and I had been dating for four months, and then I found out from my friend that he had seen her kiss someone else at a party."

"And what did you do?" I ask, gripping my hands together tight as a result of my anxiousness.

"Well, I confronted her and broke up with her. But the point is I would've been a lot more forgiving if she had come to me and told me first. As hard as it is for you to tell Ricky about this, it's going to hurt him ten times more if he finds it out from someone else. You owe him honesty."

A pit forms in my stomach, and I nod. "Yeah, you're right. Ashlyn, what if he hates me?"

Ashlyn presses her lips together before letting out a breath. "I'll still like you, and I'll be proud of you for coming clean."

I wish she would say that he won't hate me, that there's no way he'd ever want to stop talking to me, but I know she'd be lying if she did. At least I know I can come back crying to her when Ricky decides to forget I even exist. I won't blame him if he does do that. I deserve it. If I had done something about my feelings sooner, then I wouldn't be in this mess. But I didn't, and here I am, and now I have to do my best to keep the roof from crumbling off this building that I blew up when I kissed Gina. 

________________________________________

I'm already sweating, even though it's only 53 degrees out tonight. I walk from the bus stop toward Ricky's house, the whole time both wanting to get this over with and hoping he won't be there so that I can continue to procrastinate this. I've already waited the whole day, and I wasn't able to get any of the homework I had to do done, because I kept remembering what I needed to do later. Ashlyn told me that I can't put this off too long or else there will be even less of a chance that he'll forgive me. I never wanted to hurt Ricky like this, but pretending I still love him will only make the situation worse. 

My hand shakes as I press the doorbell. A moment later, Ricky opens the door, and it hits me that I can't put this off anymore. I have to tell him now. 

"Hey, Nini," He says, looking confused. "Sorry, I forgot you were coming over."

"You didn't forget," I respond. "I didn't tell you."

"Oh. Okay. Do you want to come in?"

"No. Actually, can we stay out here. I need to tell you something."

I can't go inside. It wouldn't feel right to bring this into his home, invading it with emotions that he won't be able to run from. It's better to keep this out here, where at least he can close the door on when it's all over with. 

"Okay," Ricky mumbles. 

I step over to give him space to stand, and he lets the door fall shut behind him. Suddenly, everything becomes louder. The swish of the leaves in the wind picks up, the buzz of the highway on the other side of the neighbourhood hums louder, and the heaviness of my breathing stands out so much that I try to pace it manually, but I can't. 

"What's up?" Ricky asks.

I can see the worry in his eyes. He has no idea what I'm about to say, but he knows it's not going to be good.

"Ricky, I'm sorry," I breathe.

"Sorry for what?" He looks at me in puzzlement. 

"I—" I stutter, my breath falling short. "I kissed somebody."

At that, his confusion changes to anger, and a stream of emotions all flood into him at once, making them indistinguishable from one another. I see his fists clench and his feet move back a bit. 

"Who?" he asks. 

I can't bring myself to look at him. Tears rip their way out of my eyes, rising to flee from the disgusting flip of my stomach. 

"Gina," I croak through my frail voice. 

I feel the intensity of his emotions boil over, and I brace myself for impact. But rather than yell at me, he simply shakes his head. 

"I should've known," he says. "I'm such an idiot!" 

I try to take a step forward, but he flinches back, so I stop. 

"You're not," I state. 

He lets out a single bitter chuckle of astonishment. "You're not really in a place to start telling me what I am. Okay? So you can just go."

His words are so certain and sharp. They slash at my weak core, making my tears leak even more rapidly. I must have mascara all down my cheeks, but I don't wipe it away. That would feel like I'm trying to minimize the mess I've made, and I don't deserve that. I should feel the sting of every angry line Ricky throws at me like a vinegar in the wound. I've already set on fire everything we built together, and now I need to face what I've done and breathe in the smoke.

Ricky's eyes focus to the left of me, but I still spot the glistening of tears welling up in them.

I don't know what to say, but I feel like I need to say something. "Ricky—"

"What?" he shouts, shutting me down. "What else do you have to say to me? What else did you do?" His hands swing around sharply, gesticulating with each word. "Did you sleep with her too?"

I'm shocked that he would even think I'd do something like that to him, but I guess I shouldn't be so surprised, considering he probably never thought I'd kiss someone else while I was with him either, but I did that. 

"No, I—"

"You what?" he says, his voice breaking along with his strength to hold back his tears. 

I scour my head for something, anything that I can say to make this better, but all I land on is, "I'm sorry."

"You already said that," Ricky says coldly. 

For a minute, we just stand there. I stare at him, sobbing, and he looks down at the porch below us. Eventually, he shakes his head and raises his eyes to mine.

"Can you please just leave?" Ricky whispers. 

This is it. I've officially broken his heart, and I can't do anything the change that. I don't love him anymore, and I had to tell him that. Now I've told him, and I feel like a villain. Villains aren't supposed to win. Looking at Ricky's face, I know I didn't win. Neither of us did. But I'm going to get to go talk to the girl I want to be with now, and he's left here alone. Of all the games I've played, love is by far the hardest, most complicated one, and whether you're moving forward or backwards, it always hurts like a bitch. 

I fulfill his wish and walk down off the porch, leaving him to be alone with his feelings, the ones I know I won't ever be able to understand, because I don't love him anymore, and I can't change that. All I can do is keep moving and hope I'm doing the right thing by letting him go. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I hope this burnt your soul. That's all. Good bye!


	14. Chapter 14

We're coming close to opening night for the musical, but it feels like we're getting further from being prepared—and it's my fault. I know these lines off by heart, and Ricky knows his. We used to be able to sweep through our scenes without any pauses or stutters. Now, we're in the centre of the practice room, surrounded by the rest of the cast and crew, attempting to say our scene in this stuffy air. Everyone around us can sense the tension, and they all stand or sit uncomfortably on the sides, likely wishing for this to be over as much as I want it to. 

I'm doing my best to hold up my persona, knowing that this is acting, and as a good actor, I can't let my personal life leak into my performance, but Ricky's new to the theatre. He doesn't have as much practice with separating his character from himself, and it shows. 

"Ray is such a jerk," I recite.

"He got what he wanted, didn't he?" Ricky responds. "Dante's not gonna let us play there anymore. That's for sure."

Ricky's eyes sting into me, cold as ice, so much so that I almost forget to cough. When I do, Ricky says his part, bitterness bubbling beneath his tone.

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I say. "Just a little bit tired. That's all."

I turn away as I'm supposed to, spinning back around at Ricky's next line.

"Wait, wait, Mo."

I walk back to him, but as I get closer, I see him inch away a bit, and it chokes me as he speaks. 

"There's, um, something I need to tell you." He takes in a breath. "For a long time I've been wanting to tell you. Just, you know, you were with Scott, and—and then we became friends." The entire atmosphere seems to sink as he pushes out, "I like you, Mo."

I put on the face of exhaustion and worry that I'm supposed to, and honestly, it's easy. 

"There. I said it," Ricky states. 

I swallow hard before saying the next line. "We're just friends, Charlie. Good friends. That's all."

"Fine," Ricky snipes. 

I don't think he's acting anymore. I know what real versus fake disappointment looks like, and everything Ricky is expressing right now is real. I glance to Miss Jenn and Carlos who are watching the scene unfold, both of them looking concerned but unsure how far to let this go on, so they don't say anything, and I accept the situation. 

"Charlie, please—"

"No. You know what?" Ricky says, tears starting to prick at his eyes. "'Be heard?' That's a stupid song. I'm never singing it again."

I stare at him, my mind drawing blank on what I'm supposed to say next. Ricky's throwing so much at me, and I can't possibly block it all. Instead, his loathing sinks into my skin, causing my muscles to shrivel and go paralyzed. I feel like if I move, I'll collapse. 

Miss Jenn's voice speaks, saying, "Nini. Nini, it's your line," but I can't get myself to do anything.

Eventually, I manage to look to Miss Jenn and say, "Sorry, I just—"

"You know what?" Ricky says, shaking his head, "I need to take a break."

He jets out of the room before Miss Jenn can stop him. Everyone else stares, unsure how to react, except for EJ, who goes after Ricky. 

"Okay, let's take a five," Miss Jenn orders. 

As my cast mates all disperse around the room to talk, I slowly turn around, thankful to see Gina before me so that I can collapse into her, and she catches me, holding me tight while I cry. Since breaking up with Ricky, I've tried to keep the drama with him away from my relationship with Gina, because I don't want her to think that I don't want to be with her, because I really do. I really want to be with her. It's just hard when Ricky's filled with so much anger that simply being around him screams to crack me. 

"It's going to work out okay," Gina whispers. 

Having Gina hold me right now is a medicine I didn't realize would be so effective. It's bizarre how her touch sucks away the guilt I feel and replaces it with comfort. Her presence reminds me why I broke Ricky's heart in the first place, and I can't say I regret any of it. 

Once I'm feeling better enough to stance on my own, Gina lets me go, and we're interrupted by Carlos approaching. 

"Hey, Nini. Um, how are you?"

I look to him, speechless, and he nods. 

"Okay, cool, so, um . . . I just want to make sure that this stuff with Ricky won't be a problem for the show, because opening night is in a week, and we don't exactly have time to recast the parts."

"No, it will be fine," I assure him. 

I don't really know how fine it will be, but I'm going to try to be professional. I just really need Ricky to heal so that he can move on and let this go. 

______________________________________

After everything that's been going on with Ricky, I decided to wait to tell my moms about Gina. I know that if they don't support me, it'll break me. I didn't have a set time when I was going to tell them. I basically just wanted to wait until I had to break the news to them. That time seems to be now, with us three all sitting at the dinner table, eating another one of Gina's recipes that Momma D took from her to make. 

"Weren't you planning on bringing Ricky over one of these nights?" Momma D asks. 

I put down my fork, worried I might drop it with my hand shaking from nerves the way it is. 

"Honey, are you okay?" Momma C says. 

"Yeah, um, but I should tell you something," I respond. 

Both my moms glance to each other with concern on their faces. 

"Ricky and I aren't together anymore," I say. "I broke up with him."

It feels like a huge weight off my chest. I don't like keeping secrets from them, and this wasn't supposed to be a secret, but after deciding to avoid telling everybody I could, it kind of started to feel like a secret. 

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry," Momma C says. "That must be really hard on you. Did he do something wrong?"

"No, uh, I did," I reply. "I fell for someone else."

Momma C places her hand on mine and says. "You can't control who you love. Sometimes people fall out of love, and that's okay."

"Yeah, I guess," I mutter. "But I took his heart and threw it on the ground."

"Honey, if you didn't love him anymore," Momma D says, "then his heart wasn't yours to have anyway. Someone else will find it, and it will belong to them."

"Breaking up with someone you've been with for as long as you and Ricky have takes a lot of courage," Momma C says. "By doing so, you're letting him go to find someone who's right for him. It would be cruel to stay with him and keep him from finding love again."

They're right. I guess I knew all of that already, but I didn't really believe it when it was only my head trying to convince myself. Coming from my moms, it makes more sense. 

I let myself smile and say, "Thanks."

"So," Momma D says, "can I guess who this new person you like is? Gina?"

I feel myself blush, and I nod. 

"She's a good one," Momma C tells me. "Anyone who brings us baking has my approval."

That makes me laugh, and a sense of relief washes over me. So now everyone knows about Gina and me. I can almost fully relax, but I still just really need Ricky to be okay. But I may never know when he is okay, so I'm going to try not to hold on to that. I'll focus on doing whatever feels right, and I just hope he'll move on. I'm sure it won't take long for him to find someone else anyway. Any girl would want to be with him. That truth gives me some comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, one more chapter to go. I really can't wait for y'all to read the finale. It's gonna be fun and spooky and exciting. I think. I love you all! Bye!


	15. Chapter 15

When I first auditioned for the spring musical, I had an idea of what the opening night would be like. Ricky and I would go there together. I'd tell him how nervous I was, and he'd kiss me to calm me down. It would work for about a moment before I'd remember that I still had to go out and perform. He would give me a soft smile whenever on stage with me, and I wouldn't know of anything more. I wouldn't know that I could feel anything more. 

That's not the case anymore. I know there's more, because I feel it simply by lacing my fingers through Gina's while Miss Jenn gives her pre-show pep talk. And I'm listening, but not really, because my body is pulling me toward the girl beside me, my girlfriend, and I'm doing my best to shush that need so that I can pay attention. Once we break, and the cast and crew scatters to prepare for the first scene, Gina leads me aside and winds her other free hand through mine.

She's wearing the iconic Stella red shirt with the pinned shoulder and the phrase 'Question? Authority." In her hair, a fake peacock feather dangles between the strands like Stella's. The whole aesthetic is way edgier than she usually dresses, but I can't say it's a bad look for her. It kind of brings out that part of her that's dangerous and spontaneous, and it makes me wish we were alone right now so that I could act on this feeling.

"How are you doing?" she asks. 

"Um, a little nervous, but it's nothing I can't handle," I reply. "What about you? How are you doing?"

I can tell by the way her thumbs fidget across my knuckles that she has something on her mind, and it's bothering her, but she holds her front so well that I doubt anyone else would see it. 

"I'm good, I guess," she responds. "I just… I kinda thought Kourtney would be awake by now, and that she'd be able to watch."

I take in a breath and try to settle my own sadness before I speak to help Gina's. 

"Well, on the bright side, my moms are recording the whole musical, so Kourtney can watch it."

"That'll be a wonderful surprise for when she wakes up," Gina says with a smile. 

After a moment of simply holding my eyes with hers, I step in to give her a kiss on the cheek. After that, I find it hard to get myself to back all the way up again, and Gina must be able to sense that, for she alleviates my self-control of its duty as she takes my chin in her hand and presses her lips to mine. 

Gina's kiss doesn't calm me down. It's not certain or steady or quiet. It's exhilarating, charging my desire to put my arms around her neck and pull her in closer. It fills me with confidence, because even if I completely screw up during the play tonight, I know I'll be able to kiss her again later and get more of her than she's already given, and I'll return the gift. 

When she pulls back, both of us giggle a little, satisfied with our connection. 

"I should probably go get set for the show to start," Gina tells me. "Good luck, not that you'll need it."

She lets my hands go and steps away. My eyes follow her, making me have to spin around to keep my view all the way until she leaves. Once she's gone, I'm able to see the other things in the space besides her, specifically Ricky, whose eyes quickly divert down at his phone at soon as they link with mine. 

I suddenly feel bad. I didn't realize he was here. It must've been hard for him to watch his ex girlfriend kiss her new girlfriend right in front of him. 

Wanting to make sure he's alright, I go over to where he's leaning against the wall, and he looks up from his phone with a blank face. He doesn't look upset anymore. It makes me wonder what changed. 

"Hey," I say. 

"Hey," he replies. 

When he doesn't say anything else, I take a breath and continue. "I don't want us to hate each other."

Ricky takes a second to think then tucks his phone into his pocket and lets out a huff. 

"I don't want that either," he agrees. 

I'm both amazed and so grateful. I didn't think he'd be so easy to convince. 

"Look, I know I already said it, but I'm really sorry," I tell him. "I shouldn't have let this thing with Gina go on for as long as it did without telling you."

"It's okay," he says. 

"It's not," I insist. "I hurt you, and I hated seeing you so upset."

"That wasn't entirely your fault," he confesses. 

I don't understand. He had nothing to do with Gina and I. Why would he think any of it was his fault? 

"I think part of why I was so mad at you," he explains, "was because I didn't understand why you couldn't just pretend you still wanted to be with me to keep us together, because that's what I was doing."

The confession takes a minute for me to process. He didn't want to be with me anymore either? 

"You wanted to break up?" I say, still a bit confused over it all. 

"I guess. I don't know," he responds. "Nini, I still liked you. I do like you. I mean, you'll always matter to me, but ever since we got back together, we've been—we're different. We've change, and I know you must've felt it too or else we wouldn't be in this position right now. I think my feelings just kind of faded when I started talking to someone else."

"Someone else?" I say in surprise. "Who?"

Ricky freezes, and a second later, we're interrupted when EJ comes walking into the room.

"Oh, sorry," he says. "Uh, Ricky, can I talk to you in the hall once you're done?"

Ricky's eyes practically sparkle as he replies, "Yeah. I'll be there."

EJ steps out, and Ricky returns to our conversation, but I no longer need an answer to my question. 

"It's EJ," I say. 

Ricky hesitates for a moment before letting out a breath, saying, "Yeah."

Instantly, I feel the need to hug the boy, so I do. This hug is perfect. It's not heavy or filled with complicated emotions. It's just two friends who want to be just friends. It feels far more natural than when we were a couple. 

After a second, I let him go, and I feel the relief of him smiling at me. It's been a while since he's smiled at me.

"You know I'm always here for you if you ever need anything," I remind him. 

"Thanks," Ricky responds. "Actually, I could probably use some tips on how to come out to my parents."

"Luckily for you, my moms have tons of tips."

He smiles and the two of us laugh. Everything feels normal again. Well, I guess not so much normal as just right. It feels right again. 

_______________________________________

The audience energizes me every time I look out at it. It's hard to see past the spotlights, but I can see figures, and faces if I focused hard enough. 

"Ladies and gentlemen," comes Big Red's voice over the speakers, "Lemonade Mouth!"

The audience claps and Me, Gina and Ricky step onto the stage, along with Seb who plays Wen and Ashlyn who plays Olivia. We all take our positions, and I watch as Ashlyn starts singing into the microphone, and Seb pretends to slip up on the keyboard. This is one of the later scenes of the show, the one where the band performs at Rising Star.

 _"Trying hard to fight these tears,"_ sings Ashlyn's raspy voice. _"I'm crazy worried. Messing with my head this fear."_

I cough as dramatically as possible. 

The microphone squeaks, and Ashlyn bows her head down, saying, "I'm so sorry."

While Gina does her part, stepping up to try to talk to Ashlyn, Kaden, who plays Ray, talks to EJ, who plays Scott, on the edge of the stage. 

"In the bag," Kaden says with a smirk. 

All of us band members look at each other with disappointment. 

"I can't," Seb whispers. 

When I cough again, Gina starts strumming on her guitar, but the rest of us aren't even trying anymore. Ricky is the first to get up. He comes around to the front, and we all stand in defeat. 

Over on the side, EJ puts on his guitar, but Kaden stops him, saying, "Okay, where are you going?"

"They need help, man," EJ says. 

"No, no. You do that, man, and you're out of the band for good."

I follow my band members as we all start walking off. We move slow, knowing that, at any second, Steph should stand up and start singing. What I actually hear makes me think this must be a daydream. 

_"Trying hard to fight these tears. I'm crazy worried."_

I whip around to see Kourtney in all her glory standing up in the middle of the audience. I'm so in shock that I simply stand there, mouth agape, as everyone else in the audience starts joining into the song. 

_"Messing with my head this fear. I'm so sorry."_

The five members of Lemonade Mouth all step back out into a line in the centre of the stage. The others look taken aback too. I don't think any of them knew this was coming. 

_"You know you gotta get it out. I can't take it. That's what being friends's about."_

I feel Gina's hand reach for mine subconsciously. I don't think either of us care about staying in character anymore. We're too focused on the girl we haven't seen awake for months, both probably thinking the same thing: this can't be real.

"Well, I guess, you know," EJ says to Kaden, "I'll find another band."

He steps out with his guitar at the same time as the pre-chorus kicks in, and everyone in the audience gets on their feet. 

_"I, I wanna cry. I can't deny. Tonight I wanna up and hide. And get inside. It isn't right. I gotta live in my life."_

This is real. Kourtney begins walking forward toward the stage, and I can't hold myself back any longer. 

_"I know I, I know I, I know I gotta do it. I know I, I know I, I know I gotta do it!"_

I practically tackle Kourtney in my embrace, and almost a millisecond after me, Gina comes crashing in as well. All three of us are crying in an instant, while the audience is cheering and singing the lines of the song, lead by some of our crew members standing with the crowd. 

_"Gotta turn the world into your dance floor! Determinate. Determinate. Push until you can't and then demand more! Determinate. Determinate."_

Neither Gina nor I let go of Kourtney. I need to keep hold of her, afraid she's just a figment of my imagination that will disappear if I let go. 

_"You and me together, we can make it better! Gotta turn the world into your dance floor! Determinate. Determinate."_

After the song is done, Seb, Ricky, Ashlyn and EJ all come down to get Gina, Kourtney and me to go with them backstage. 

As soon as my best friend gets out of sight of the audience, everyone else backstage piles onto the girl in a massive hug. They all exclaim their excitement that she's awake, and she has a smile on her face that can't be smudged. Once everybody else is finished with her, Gina and I bring her over to us.

"Okay, nobody told us you were here," I say, still shaking in shock. 

"Hey, Miss Jenn kept her identity a secret for two months," Kourtney says. "She could keep this a secret for two days."

I'm stuck smiling, wading in my amazement that she's actually standing in front of me right now. Suddenly, I remember something.

"Oh, we should probably tell you—"

"You two are dating?" Kourtney cuts me off. "Yeah. Carlos told me."

Gina and I glance to each other, smiling wide.

"You two better not start making me third wheel," Kourtney teases. 

"Never," I assure her. "Besides, we're going to find you a boyfriend."

Kourtney chuckles at that and shakes her head. "Yeah, well, my last date didn't go so hot."

Suddenly, Rico enters the room and calls out, "Kourtney?"

Kourtney spins around. As soon as he sees her face, Rico rushes up to hug her, and Kourtney hurries to meet him in the middle. While the two of them reunite, Gina turns to me with a smile on her face. 

"This has already proven to be a pretty good performance," she says. 

"It really has," I agree. 

Gina holds out her hand, palm up. "Ready for the rest of the show?"

I clasp my hand over hers, feeling the butterflies rise as I reply, "Absolutely."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, I did it! I'm done this story! I'm super happy with how this last chapter turned out. I really hope you all liked it. Thank you so much everyone who read this. I appreciate every single one of you. I love you more than you know. Have a lovely night!


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